A New Creation
by Integrandia
Summary: As Sarai Hawke and Anders struggle to build a new life together, they must face both old and new threats. Post-DA2; end game spoilers
1. The Gathering Storm

[**Author's Note**: This is the start of a longer story using the same Hawke character as my last fic, The Key. Any and all comments or criticisms are welcome.]

**A New Creation**

Chapter One:

The Gathering Storm

**Ten Days Before the Destruction of the Kirkwall Chantry**

_Sarai Hawke strode quickly through the Hanged Man, but with none of her usual grace and confidence. Her shoulders were hunched; a hunted look hung around her. The Rivani pirate-duelist, Isabela, watched with interest and a pang of concern as her friend crossed the tavern. But it was clear that Sarai was there to see someone else._

_Sarai hurried up the stairs and burst into Varric's room. The dwarf looked up in surprise. "Hawke, what brings you here?"_

_Her voice trembled when she spoke. She gestured nervously. "It's... Anders... I think he's done something terrible."_

_Now Varric looked at Sarai more intently. "Hawke, you're shaking like a scared kitten. I've never seen you like this before. What in the name of Andraste's ass happened between you two?"_

_Sarai hesitated. "Do you remember when we went down into the sewers?"_

_"How could I forget?"_

_"Anders told me..." She heaved a shuddering sigh. "He told me he needed ingredients. For a potion that would separate him from Justice."_

_"And you didn't think that sounded too good to be true?"_

_"I thought—I don't know what I thought! I just hoped that maybe it would..." She trailed off._

_"It would cure him?" Varric ventured._

_Sarai nodded in response._

_"I hate to break it to you, my friend, but you can't cure crazy." *_

_"You don't need to make me feel any worse than I do already!" She snapped._

_"All right, all right. So the potion didn't work, or it didn't exist?"_

_"It never existed," she said quietly. "He lied to me."_

_Varric regarded his friend with concern. "Why don't you tell me the whole story."_

_So she did—beginning with Anders' request for help, their trips into the sewers and to the Bone Pit, and their confrontation when they returned. "He manipulated me. And still he wouldn't tell me the truth." She slammed her hands down on the table. "The person I trusted most in the world, and he lied to me!"_

_"So what did he need all those ingredients for?"_

_"I don't know. I still don't know. But he took me to the Chantry, asked me to distract the Grand Cleric."_

_"Maker," Varric swore. "That can't be good."_

_"I just don't know what to do anymore, Varric. Was it all a lie? Everything he ever told me? Was he just using me all along?"_

_"You know there's only one person who can answer those questions, Hawke, and it's not me. But for what it's worth, I don't think he was faking all these years. Either he's the best damned actor Thedas has ever seen—and I doubt that—or he's really in love with you."_

_Sarai sighed deeply. "I think this is his idiotic way of protecting me. As if he can insulate me from his plans. As if I'm not already involved."_

_"We're all involved, now. Whatever's going to happen, we can't escape that."_

_She nodded but remained silent._

_"So what do you do now, Champion?"_

_She flinched at the title. "I don't know anymore."_

_"Then let me give you a push in the right direction. Go talk to him."_

_"I can't. I can't face him."_

_"You're going to have to. For his sake, and for the rest of us."_

~—~

**Three Days After the Destruction of the Kirkwall Chantry**

Anders buried his face in his hands, trying to ignore the swaying motion of the ship. Trying to ignore his thoughts. Trying to ignore his memories of the past two weeks.

After he had admitted to her that he had lied, that there was no potion, everything had seemed to fall apart. It was just as he had feared. They clashed several times before he finally left her estate and returned to his clinic for good. Until that cursed morning when she had come to find him, to bring him along for a confrontation between Meredith and Orsino. He had known then that it was time. He had done what he intended, but this—he glanced up at the open water—this was not what he had expected.

She hadn't spoken to him in three days. No—that wasn't right. She had spoken to him, had smiled at him, had touched his arm gently as she whispered in his ear. Maker, she had _laughed_.

In fact, the only thing she hadn't done was bring up his crime, his guilt. It hung over his shoulder like some enormous beast, threatening to consume him. _Why won't she talk about it? Why didn't she kill me when she had the chance? Maker's breath, why does she keep acting like she still loves me?_

Absorbed in his thoughts, he didn't hear Sarai approach. "Do you feel sick?" she asked.

He jumped to his feet, startled. "Sarai. I—no. I'm fine."

She took a step closer, concerned. "Are you sure? You don't look well."

He swallowed. "I'm fine. I don't get seasick."

"All right. I'll leave you alone." She turned to go.

Without thinking, he grabbed her arm. "Sarai, wait."

She looked up into his golden eyes calmly.

"What are you doing?" He said, choked with emotion. "What... What is happening between us?"

She smiled, but there was sadness in her eyes. "Anders, all I'm doing is what I've always done. Loving you."

Her words were so sincere, but he turned away as quickly as if she'd slapped him. "_Why?_ How can you still love me? How can you accept me after everything I've done? After what I've done to you?"

"What have you done to me?"

It hurt even to think about, but he forced himself to answer, whispering, "I tricked you. You trusted me, and I used that trust to my advantage."

"Why did you do it?" Her voice held no accusation. She sounded almost like a teacher coaxing an answer out of a child.

"Because I had to! Because the mages needed to be freed. Because Meredith had to be destroyed."

She shook her head. "No. You're wrong."

He could have screamed in frustration and confusion. "What, then? You know my motives better than I do?"

"Perhaps. Anders, you just gave me all the reasons you destroyed the Chantry. That's not why you lied to me." When he said nothing, she continued, "You lied to me because you were afraid to trust me. Afraid I'd turn my back on you."

The truth stung, but he couldn't deny it. "You deserve so much better than me," he said bitterly.

"I don't want anyone but you, Anders." She put her arms around him, resting her head on his chest. "I promised you I would be with you until the day we died. I intend to keep that promise."

"I don't understand you. How you can keep loving me."

"You hurt me, Anders," she admitted quietly. "But you acted out of fear, not malice. I want to help you overcome that fear. I will not leave you."

For the first time since he had decided to lie to her, weeks before, he felt a glimmer of hope. "What would you have of me?"

"I want you to trust me, Anders. We'll get through this together."

Hesitantly, he wrapped his arms around her. He pressed his lips against her hair, and dared to believe her.

~—~

**Nine Days Before the Destruction of the Kirkwall Chantry**

_A patient came to the door of the Darktown clinic, but the sight of rogue and mage facing off against one another, voices raised, drove him quickly away again._

_"For the last time, no! I will not tell you!"_

_"How can you keep this from me? I trusted you—I thought you trusted me!"_

_"If you trust me, then trust me now. I do what must be done to achieve justice."_

_"You already have Justice," she said bitterly._

_He turned away at her words. "I will not tell you, no matter what you say."_

_Sarai felt her heart breaking. _Just as he warned me it would._ The thought was no comfort. "Anders, please. I love you."_

_He turned back to her, his features softening. "And I swear, I love you. But this—some things are greater even than love."_

_She drowned her pain in hot anger. "If you believe that, then you know _nothing_ of love, Anders."_

_She turned and left the clinic. When she had gone, Anders fell to his knees, the tears he had been fighting breaking free. _This will kill me_, he thought desperately._

~—~

[* **Author's Note**: I know this line may be upsetting from a mental health perspective. Please understand that this is not my opinion on mental illness - it's what I think Varric would say in this situation. ]


	2. New Beginning

Chapter Two:

New Beginning

**Three Weeks After the Destruction of the Kirkwall Chantry**

Sarai knew they had been lucky to escape Kirkwall in the wake of the disaster. The surviving Templars, having seen what Meredith had become, seemed more eager to forget what happened than to chase after Sarai and her companions. And Isabela had newly acquired Castillon's ship and was prepared to take them out of the city within hours. Aveline had stayed behind, choosing to remain with her husband and the city she had come to call home. She wanted to do what she could to restore order in the absence of viscount, Circle, and Knight-Commander. But when they parted, she had promised Hawke her continued loyalty.

All the rest of their bizarre group had followed their friend, the Champion of Kirkwall, onto the ship and out of the city. Even the assassin Zevran had joined them. Sarai rested her elbows on the deck railing and sighed. She had neither asked nor expected her companions to remain with her. As grateful as she was for their company, she wondered whether she had anything left to offer them as a leader.

"If you're in a moping contest with Blondie, you should know you're bound to lose," Varric remarked as he approached.

She smiled at the dwarf. "I'm not moping. Honestly. I'm just..." She looked out at the water. "I'm worrying about the future, I suppose."

"Worrying? Whatever for? Just because you've lost everything again, fled the city that once called you its Champion, and thrown in your lot with the most hated man in all of Thedas?" Varric knew it had to be hard for Hawke, forced to leave yet another home; but he never had been one for overblown sympathy.

"Well, when you put it that way, it sounds positively optimistic."

"That's what I'm here for, Hawke." They stood in friendly silence for a few minutes. Finally, Varric spoke. "You know we'll be in Amaranthine soon, don't you? What's your next move?"

"I truly don't know. It will be good to be back in Ferelden, I think. A new beginning. But we won't be safe."

"A life on the run, then?"

"That was how I grew up. Kirkwall was just a temporary break, I suppose."

From the crow's nest, Fenris gave a shout. "He must have spotted land," Varric said. "I'm going to check in with Isabela. You coming?"

Sarai straightened. "I might as well."

Together, the two approached the helm. "Amaranthine's in sight, Hawke. Hope you're ready." Isabela had wanted to go back to Rivain, but had accepted her friend's request to travel to Ferelden first.

"I suppose I'm as ready as I will be."

"We'll be docking soon. I'll need all hands on deck."

"I'll go tell the others," Varric offered.

Isabela watched the dwarf go belowdecks, then rounded on Sarai. "So."

"So what, Isabela?" Sarai knew that tone. It was never a good sign.

"You act like I'm going to bite you," Isabela said with a pout. "Although, on second thought, if you're willing..."

Sarai smiled in spite of herself. _Isabela is incorrigible_. "Why don't you get to the point?"

"Ah, yes. The point, as always, is Anders. Has he been... pointy lately?"

"If you're asking whether we've made love, no. The bunks on your ship are far too narrow."

"You learn to manage, honey. And are you sure narrow bunks are your only problem?"

Grimacing, Sarai replied, "No, that's not my only problem. But you already knew that, so why are you asking?"

"Because I care about you, believe it or not. I might even care about that crazy mage. And I know this hasn't been easy for you."

Once again, Sarai looked out at the water, as if it could wash away her troubles. "My father was an apostate, you know. My mother left everything she had to follow him, even though it meant a life of fear, constantly on the move, never feeling safe." She paused, then turned back to Isabela. "My parents always told me that a strong relationship was like an arch. You lean on each other to stay up. You can support the weight of the world that way."

Isabela pursed her lips. "So how's your arch holding up?"

"Not well." Another pause. "He won't lean on me."

"I want you to know that it's only our friendship that's keeping from making some very racy jokes right now."

"You're too kind."

The two women smiled at each other. For all their differences, Sarai had come to realize that she could trust Isabela entirely. The pirate's loyalty was hard-won, but it was unwavering. "Listen, Hawke. I've never been one for commitment or heartfelt declarations of love. But you and Anders—you have a good thing. I don't want to see you get your heart broken."

"Neither do I, Isabela. I don't think it's up to me."

Then Fenris let out another shout and started down the mast. It was time to prepare for their landing. Isabela turned her attention back to her ship as the rest of the group emerged onto the deck. Still, the pirate kept one eye on Hawke as she went to Anders' side. _Maybe it's Anders who really needs a talking-to_, she thought to herself.

~—~

As they entered the city of Amaranthine, Anders looked noticeably uncomfortable. "Can we... not stay here long? Please?"

"What is it now, mage—did you blow something up here, too?" Fenris said coldly. He might trust Hawke, even accept her attempts to help the mages. But he had no fondness for her favorite apostate.

"No." Anders shot back. "As a matter of fact, I helped save this city once." A look of sadness crossed his face and he added quietly, "In another life."

Fenris ignored him. Sarai put a comforting hand on Anders' arm. "Were you here with the Grey Wardens?"

"With the Warden Commander, as a matter of fact. Better known as the Hero of Ferelden. When the darkspawn attacked, she refused to abandon the city. She saved a lot of lives."

"Someday, Blondie, I am going to have to get all those stories about your Grey Warden days," Varric said.

"There weren't many of them. Grey Warden days, I mean."

Anders had never spoken much of his time with the Wardens. Curious, Sarai asked, "What do you mean?"

"You know, the usual. You run away from the Circle, you get conscripted into the Wardens, you save Amaranthine, you kill the Mother. Then you make a deal with a spirit of Justice, and before you know it, you're running for your life again." A note of bitterness tinged his voice.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked," Sarai said quietly.

He shook his head. "Don't apologize. This place—it just brings back a lot of memories." _Not just my memories. Justice's memories. Kristoff's memories._

"We won't be here long," she promised. "We're moving on to Denerim."

"The sooner, the better," he replied.

~—~


	3. Paths Diverge

Chapter Three:

Paths Diverge

Sarai Hawke had never been to Denerim before. Living with two apostates, it had always been safer to stay in the wilder parts of Ferelden. Now she surveyed the capital with interest. It was nowhere near as imposing as Kirkwall, though its winding back alleys reminded her of Lowtown.

She smiled to hear the barking of Mabari and the noisy replies of her own warhound, Behemot. "Do you want to meet some new friends?" she asked the animal. "Or are you warning them off?"

Behemot barked happily. With a pang, Sarai realized she was half-expecting Sandal to join in. _That dwarf loved Behemot almost as much as he loved enchantment_. But when they fled Kirkwall, she had urged Bodahn to go through with his plan to travel to Orlais. She couldn't ask them to become fugitives on her account.

Setting aside her regrets, she looked around her again. She had decided to explore the market with Behemot, leaving the rest of her companions back at the Pearl. Isabela had insisted that it was the only place to stay in Denerim, and Zevran had heartily agreed. Sarai knew that Isabela was in the inn's main room, cheating at cards and challenging passers-by to duels.

"Oh! Hawke. What are you doing here?"

Surprised, Hawke turned to see Merrill, who looked confused herself. "I told you when I left. I'm just looking around the city."

"Oh. I must have gotten turned around again. I wanted to see the Alienage." The elf looked around with interest. "So this isn't it, then?"

"No, Merrill. This is the market. I think the Alienage is over there," Sarai replied, gesturing. She smiled in spite of herself. Keeping track of Merrill made her feel like she was watching over a younger sister.

"Thanks, Hawke." Merrill said gratefully. She started to head in the direction of the Alienage, but stopped and turned back. "Say, Hawke..."

"Yes?"

"You and Anders. Are you—I mean, is everything going to be all right? If you don't mind my asking, I mean, you don't have to say anything if you don't want to, I mean—"

"Merrill."

"Sorry. Babbling again. I'll go."

Merrill hurried off without waiting for a response. Sarai watched her go, then looked down at Behemot. "Everyone wants to know about Anders and me." The dog whined. "I wish someone would give me some answers for a change." She turned and headed back to the inn.

~—~

That evening, the party gathered around a table together. Varric's coin purse flashed, and drinks appeared. Isabela tore herself away from an apparently fascinating conversation with one of the whores and sauntered over.

"So Hawke, what's our next move?" Varric asked as he took a drink.

She looked around the table. These people, her friends, had continued to follow her even when she had no idea where she was going. It continued to surprise her. Her eyes lingered on Anders' face. He had said very little to her since they arrived back in Ferelden. She had taken a separate room in The Pearl. _Maker, I hope I can make this work_.

"I have to be honest with you all," she began. "You've followed me all this time. You followed me, a fugitive, as we fled Kirkwall. Your loyalty means the world to me."

"You have earned it," Fenris said simply, and the others nodded.

"Thank you," she replied. "But I want you to know, you are free to pursue your own paths. You owe me no obligation. You will almost certainly be safer the farther away you are from me." _From us_, she said to herself.

"Hawke, you know we'll stand by you." Varric said, but his eyes were on Anders. The mage noticed Varric's look. He stood and walked away without a word.

Sarai watched him go in silence, then forced herself back to the conversation. "You've stood by me in many battles. But we're no longer in Kirkwall. My life will be one of running and hiding. I don't expect you to follow me."

"So, what will you do?" Zevran asked.

"Leave Denerim, to begin with. I think I'll go south from here, skirting the Brecilian Forest. Then I may cut west, along the edge of the Kokari Wilds. You see," she added, "I have no destination, no plan. I just need to keep moving and stay out of reach of everyone who wants to kill me."

"Well, I have appreciated your alliance, friend. But I believe I will stay here in Dererim for the time being. If you have need of me, my blades will always be yours." Zevran rose. "And now, if you'll excuse me, there is business I must attend to." The rest of the group watched as he went directly to a group of prostitutes in the corner and led three of them into a back room. Isabela snorted, impressed.

"What about you, Isabela? You finally got a ship of your own again, I hate to keep you from it."

"You're kind, Hawke." Isabela smiled, a hint of sadness in her eyes. "I think this is where we part ways, at least for now. Like Zevran said, you can always call on me if you need me."

Sarai nodded. "I understand. If I ever need to make a quick escape again, I hope you'll be nearby." She looked at the others. Their group was dwindling. "Merrill?"

"If you don't mind, Hawke, I'd like to come with you. I haven't seen the Brecilian Forest in oh so long."

"I'm with you, Hawke," Varric said. "I'm trying to expand the family business in Ferelden, anyway."

Fenris gave a sigh. "Hawke, I owe you my life and my freedom. But I will cannot remain with that abomination any longer. I must find my own path. I hope we will meet again."

She ignored the jab at Anders; she had learned long ago that Fenris' opinion on that matter could not be changed. "I understand, Fenris. I hope our paths will cross again soon." Sarai stood. "Thank you all again, for everything. I'll be leaving in the morning." Then she turned and walked upstairs to her room.

When she opened the door, she was surprised to see Anders sitting on the bed, his face buried in his hands. Cautiously, she said, "You know you have your own room, right? I don't want you to feel like you have to share a bed with me if you don't want to."

Anders strode over to her, closing the door before taking hold of her arms. "Sarai, we have to talk."

Easing out of his grip, she took his hand and led them over to the bed. They sat side-by-side. "By all means," she said. "What do you want to talk about?"

"Are you trying to get me to leave?" he demanded.

"What? No! Why would you think that?"

"All this talk of going our separate ways, saying goodbye. If you want to get rid of me, just say so." Looking away, he added, "I understand why you wouldn't want me around."

Sarai felt a twinge of irritation. "Anders, I told the others they could leave if they wanted to because I don't want to drag them into this, a life on the run, hiding from Templars and Maker knows who else. I know what it's like to live with an apostate. But I always thought—I assumed that we would be together." The hurt crept into her voice. "Isn't that what you want?"

Now Anders looked at her, surprised. _Surprised, just like he was surprised that I didn't kill him._ He put a hand out cautiously, touching her leg. "You want to flee with me? Live with an apostate?"

"Of course I do! Didn't I make that clear to you on the ship? Haven't I told you that a thousand times?" She turned towards him, put a hand on his cheek. "Anders, I love you. I never want to leave you."

Anders heart pounded in his chest. "I love you," he whispered, putting one arm around her. He drew her close for a kiss. Then he rested his forehead against hers and said softly, "I'm sorry I'm so bad at this."

"Stop apologizing," she replied. "No one's perfect. If you want this to last, you have to learn from your mistakes and keep on trying."

"I'll do what I can," he said, a smile finally breaking across his face. Then he put a hand on the back of her head and pulled her in for another kiss, this one longer and more passionate. With a pleased murmur, Sarai let a hand slide up his thigh. Together, they fell backwards across the bed, pulling desperately at clothes and boots, their bodies becoming reacquainted after too long apart. When they finally slept, it was peacefully.

~—~

[**Author's Note**: I swear, there is going to be some action in this story eventually! I'm just setting the stage, and it's taking a while. Thanks for your comments, I'm always happy to see reviews.]


	4. On the Road

Chapter Four:

On the Road

Sarai, Anders, Varric, and Merrill said their goodbyes the next morning, picked up a few supplies from the marketplace, and made their way out of Denerim. Varric did not fail to notice how close Anders and Sarai remained to one another, nor the smiles that passed between them. _About time_, the dwarf thought. _Looks like they finally made up._

Their journey south was uneventful. The weather was fair and no highwaymen appeared to trouble them. With no real destination, they made their way at a leisurely pace. Sarai was enjoying seeing Ferelden again. For all the time she had spent in Kirkwall, the renown she had gained there, Ferelden still felt like home. She let out a happy sigh.

"What are you smiling about?" Anders asked, smiling himself.

"I'm just happy to be back in Ferelden. I never felt safe in Kirkwall."

"You feel safe here?" He replied as his brows drew together. "You haven't forgotten that we're running for our lives, have you?"

"Yes, but the danger isn't immediate. No one is close behind us. I think this is the first time I've felt relaxed since... Well, since Ostagar."

Days passed. They camped each night when the sun began to set, sitting around a fire and letting Varric tell his stories. They posted watches but encountered no trouble. Before long, the Brecilian Forest loomed over them, heavy with shadows. Flickering movements were barely discernible through the veil of trees.

Merrill seemed simply delighted to see the forbidding forest. "Oh! It's just as I remember it. So green and full of life. There's so much energy here, it's almost like blood magic." Her companions exchanged worried glances, as they often did when she brought up blood magic.

The elf-mage was unperturbed. "You know, there are other Dalish clans living in the forest. I wonder if I could find them?"

"What would you do if you did, Daisy?" Varric asked, torn between curiosity and amusement.

"Oh, I don't know. It would just be nice to see my people again. And the halla. Oh, how I miss the halla with their beautiful horns." Merrill's voice grew sad.

"You really miss being among the Dalish, don't you?" Anders asked. His tone was unusually gentle; usually he was harsh with Merrill.

Merrill looked up with her wide green eyes. "I do. Knowing I can never go back to my clan..."

Sarai put an arm around Merrill's shoulders. "I'm sorry, Merrill. I know you never meant for it to turn out that way."

Now Merrill turned her large eyes to the rogue. "I've been thinking, Hawke. I wanted so much to do something for my people, to reclaim a piece of our history. It all went wrong. But maybe, maybe I can make it right again? By learning from my mistakes. I could find another clan, pass on the Dalish history. Try to—" She hesitated. "Try to make up for Marethari's death."

"Something new, to stand in the place of what you did before?" Hawke's eyes wandered from the elf beside her to Anders, a short distance away. Merrill's words came back to her from the night the Chantry was destroyed. _He should come with us. Do what he can to make things right._

"Exactly! Do you think I could, Hawke? Do you think I could set things right?"

"I don't know much about the Dalish, Merrill. But yes, I would venture to say that you have a chance to make things right."

"Oh! I'm so glad you think so. Perhaps I'll go find the Dalish right now." Without another word, she set off into the forest.

"Whoa, hang on there, Daisy!" Varric cried, grabbing the elf by the wrist. "Are you sure that's a good idea, wandering into the Brecilian Forest by yourself? You used to get lost going from the Alienage to the Hanged Man."

"Oh, Varric, that's because the city had all those _buildings._ They were always so confusing. I'd never get lost in the forest." She suddenly stopped, as if a thought had occurred to her. "But then, I suppose you all won't be coming with me. Does that mean this is goodbye?"

"Merrill, if this is what you feel you need to do, then go." Sarai put a friendly hand on Merrill's shoulder. "But don't consider it a goodbye. I'm sure we will meet again."

"Oh, Hawke." Merrill threw her arms around Sarai. "You've always been such a good friend to me. I wish I knew how to thank you." Then the elf pulled back, eyes bright. "I'll send word to you, somehow. Once I find a clan to take me in, you can come visit me! And I'll introduce you to the halla and the trees and all the different flowers. I'm sure they'll all be so happy to meet you."

"Send a message to Varric Tethras, Daisy. It'll always find its way to me."

The companions parted ways with a touch of sadness. But Merrill's excitement as she skipped off into the forest put a smile on Sarai's face.

"And then there were three," Varric said.

Behemot barked in annoyance. "Fine, fine. And then there were three, and a mabari. Happy now?"

~—~

Their journey continued, cutting west now towards South Reach. As they passed through towns and villages, Varric conducted his business: seeking out contacts, buying and selling merchandise, investigating taverns and bars. He was a one-man trade caravan. He had even purchased a horse and cart to complete the image; it made traveling slower, but more convenient. In the evenings, he would write letters, giving instructions to his employees and business associates. On one such night, he threw down his pen abruptly.

"Andraste's tits, I can't take this anymore!"

Sarai and Anders looked over from where they were sitting—or rather, cuddling—near the fire. "Something the matter?" Anders asked curiously.

Varric stood, stretching, and made his way from his makeshift writing desk. "Business," he said darkly as he joined the two by the campfire. "I'm sick of it. But with Bartrand out of his mind and out of the picture..."

"What? All those cousins you talked about can't help you run the business?" Sarai teased, knowing full well that they had been convenient fictions.

"They're occupied with their own pursuits," he replied calmly. Then, with a darker expression, he said, "As if the family business weren't bad enough, I'm starting to get worried about the rumors I'm hearing. Word is, mages all over Thedas are rebelling against their circles. I've heard that the Circle Tower here in Ferelden has already fallen."

"Good riddance," Anders said coldly.

Varric shot a glare at the mage. "Your ideals aside, Blondie, this is bad news. The mages are breaking free from the Templars, the Templars are breaking free from the Chantry... it's chaos. And chaos is bad for business."

"Sorry if your business is suffering," Anders shot back, "I suppose the mages should have considered the inconvenience to you before they seized their freedom."

"It's not just bad for my business. It's bad for you, too. Or have you forgotten that the Templars want your head on a pike?"

"Enough, you two," Sarai interjected. She knew their verbal sparring wasn't serious, but she didn't want to see them argue.

"Seriously, Hawke, you should be concerned. Templars off the Chantry's leash does not bode well for either of you."

"Nothing in Thedas bodes well for us, Varric. The Divine could sneeze and it would mean bad luck for us."

"I've heard rumors about Templar groups sweeping this area. I think you should be just a little bit more concerned."

"What can we do that we aren't already doing?" Anders asked wearily.

"I hate to be the one to say this, but I think the time has come for us to part ways. You'll be faster without me, and less likely to attract attention."

Sarai felt a squeeze around her heart. She had known, from the day they left Kirkwall without Aveline, that one day all her companions would leave her side. Slowly but surely, their group had dwindled. Still, she had held on to the hope that Varric would stay with them. The dwarf was like an older brother—watching out for her, giving her advice, buying her drinks, and making jokes at her expense. _And my official biographer_, she thought ruefully, for Varric had long since claimed that title for himself.

Her face must have betrayed the pain she felt, for Varric said softly, "It's not for good, Hawke. Like I told Daisy, you send a message to Varric Tethras, it will find me. And I'll still keep an eye on you. After all," he concluded with a broad smile, "You're bound to get into more adventures, and I'm not going to miss the opportunity to tell those stories."

Sarai swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded. "You're right. Anders and I will head into the Bannorn, there's plenty of empty land there. I think the Blight destroyed a lot of it, so it won't be hard to stay out of sight."

"And I'm going to Lothering. The city's beginning to rebuild after all this time. Plenty of opportunities there."

Knowing that this departure would be the hardest on the woman he loved, Anders clapped the dwarf on the back. "Well, if we've got one more night together, let's make it a good one. Break open a bottle of that whiskey you bought last week and tell us a story."

So late into the night, the sound of their laughter rose up with the smoke from the fire.

~—~


	5. Aftershocks

[**Author's Note**: I went back and corrected a few things in this chapter. Thanks to The Winged Tormentor of Ra, who pointed out that there is no "King" of Starkhaven; the correct title is "Prince."]

~—~

Chapter Five:

Aftershocks

Anders, Sarai, and Behemot had parted ways with the last of their companions. While Varric made his way to Lothering, they moved into the Bannorn. Even having seen the Darkspawn horde, Sarai was shocked. Burned farmland stretched across the horizon. From time to time, they came across farmsteads, but nearly all of them were burnt-out shells.

"Nine years since the Blight, and no one's rebuilt?" she asked in shock.

"Darkspawn blood poisons everything it touches. Even the land. I expect that even now, the land is only beginning to recover."

In time, they found a barn that was unoccupied, but in better condition than the other ruins they had encountered. It would offer them shelter from the weather and a clear view of any approaching Templars. The pair settled themselves into a kind of temporary home.

~—~

**One Hour After the Destruction of the Kirkwall Chantry**

_"I should have trusted you. Even with all we've shared, I never thought you'd spare my life."_

_The words stung, even through the fear of the coming battle. When Sarai had spared Anders' life—more than spared his life; remained by his side to face the Templars—he had been so shocked. _He really believed I would kill him,_ Sarai thought numbly. _After everything, he thought I'd cut him down in cold blood._ Now, for the first time, she began to understand: Anders had never trusted anyone, never been trusted. She didn't blame him for it; she couldn't imagine the effect of a life in the Circle, a life constantly alone._

_"You can always trust me, Anders. I swear it."_

_Anders grasped Sarai's hands, his desperation evident on his face. "You told me that I knew nothing of love."_

_"No, I was angry, it's—"_

_"Please, hear me out. You were right. I've never known the kind of love you have shown me. And all this time, I haven't returned your love in kind. But I have to thank you now, for giving me another chance. I promise you, I will learn to love you the way you deserve. If you will stay with me—"_

_She silenced him with a kiss bearing all her passion and fear. "I will stand by you. Never doubt that."_

_Together, they turned to face the final battle._

~—~

**Three Months After the Destruction of the Kirkwall Chantry**

Anders awoke suddenly. His sleep had always been light and restless, with fear of the nightmares within the Fade and an ever greater fear of the dangers of the waking world. Now he strained his senses. It was very late, that much was clear; only a tiny sliver of moonlight cut into the barn where he and Sarai slept. He could hear no sounds of birds or animals. _It's too quiet, even for this time of night_, he thought cautiously. Taking care not to disturb Sarai as she slept beside him, he eased himself out of their shared bedroll.

Behemot was also awake, Anders noted; the Mabari stood at attention, his eyes trained on the entrance to the barn. "You feel it too, don't you?" Anders whispered to the dog. In response, Behemot let out the quietest of growls and bared his teeth.

Before Anders could take another step towards the barn door, there was a whooshing sound followed by a solid thud. The smell of smoke reached his nostrils. _Fire arrows_, he realized, as several more impacted the barn. He spun around to Sarai, who had awoken at the noise.

"We're being attacked!"

She didn't need another warning. There was no time for armor, so she grabbed her daggers and headed for the door Anders was throwing open.

Outside, they were met by a wall of soldiers. Sarai saw roughly two dozen archers, and perhaps half that number armed with swords. But her attention was drawn immediately to their leader, who stood front and center in his all-too-familiar white armor.

"Sebastian," she spat. The crown around his temples indicated his title: Prince of Starkhaven.

"I have come, as I promised," he replied coolly. "I am here for Anders, to mete out the punishment you were too cowardly to execute. However, I will spare your life, Sarai Hawke, if you surrender now."

"I was _not_ cowardly, Sebastian, and I will not surrender. Now as then, I fight by Anders' side."

Anders readied his staff, already feeling Justice's power and rage surge within him. The glow in his eyes was reflected against Sebastian's armor. "You will not take us!" he roared, and the battle was joined.

Sarai immediately moved to one side, taking advantage of the shadows. Behemot surged after her, but she glanced back and ordered the Mabari, "Stay with Anders! Don't let them get close to him!"

She snuck around the perimeter of the troops. The nearest archer was notching an arrow and taking aim at Anders. In an instant, she was behind him, her dagger finding its mark between his ribs. Letting the body fall, she darted to her next target, dispatching him as easily as the first.

As she pulled out her blade, she felt another dagger pressed against her throat. The next instant, a canvas bag was pulled over her head. Her nostrils were filled with a heavy, sweet scent, making her dizzy. A strong grip twisted her arm behind her back and spun her around, forcing her away from the battlefield. She tried to struggle, but being forced blind across the uneven ground made it a challenge even to keep her feet under her.

The forced march continued. Finally, she was thrown to the ground, but before she could react, the same strong hands pulled her up onto her knees. She was slammed up against something—a tree trunk?—and ropes were passed across her chest.

The hood was removed. She was not surprised to see Sebastian standing before her. The light of a nearby campfire shone off his armor. "What do you want with me, Sebastian?" she snapped.

"I wish you to repent for what you have done. Repent, and return to the sight of the Maker." Sebastian's voice betrayed no emotion.

"Last I checked, repentance didn't come from abduction and imprisonment."

"At times, it is necessary," he replied, "To ensure that the wicked are suitably contrite." He turned to the fire and removed a hot iron. Its end glowed a sullen red.

"What are you going to do?" she said, panic rising in her chest. She struggled against the ropes, but she was tied tightly, the tree against her back.

Without speaking, Sebastian laid the metal against her thigh. It immediately burned through her light pants and into her flesh. She screamed.

"Repent, Hawke. Turn to the Maker's mercy. Reject that monster."

"His name is Anders," she snarled through gritted teeth, "And he's not a monster."

The iron burned her other leg. Once again, she could not hold back a scream.

Sebastian regarded her coldly, showing no reaction to her screams or her ragged breaths. "Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him," Sebastian said. "Anders is an abomination in the sight of the Maker. My men will kill him, if they have not already, and Elthina's death will be avenged. But from you, the Maker desires repentance."

She said nothing. Sebastian moved dispassionately, setting down the hot iron and stepping to Sarai's side. He grasped her right arm in his hands and began to pull it up and away from her body. Pain spread through her shoulder, and she cried out, "Sebastian, stop this, please!"

"It is better to enter the Maker's sight with one arm than to be cast into the Void," was his only response. There was a sickening _pop_ in her shoulder and searing pain overwhelmed her. She screamed in agony, the sound going on and on.

Sebastian raised a hand to strike her. At that moment, an arrow sprouted in his wrist, and he staggered back. "Who—?" The second arrow found its mark in his throat.

As Sebastian fell, Varric strode into the light of the campfire, returning Bianca to her holster. He rushed to Sarai's side, pulling out a knife to cut through the ropes. She fell limply into his arms.

"Andraste and Maferath," he muttered as he examined her injuries.

"Varric?" she whispered. It was hard to think, hard to see through the veil of pain. "Sebastian, he—"

"Sebastian's dead, Hawke. Bianca took care of that."

"He was mad, Varric. Like Bartrand, like Meredith. Something in his eyes..." she shuddered.

"The lyrium idol was destroyed with Meredith. You don't think he found a piece of it?"

"I don't know. I don't think I care to." She frowned as she tried to make sense of things. "How did you find me?"

"As soon as I heard that Sebastian had come to Ferelden with that blighted army he kept talking about, I started tracking you down. I only wish I had gotten here sooner."

"Anders!" she said, suddenly remembering. "We have to find him. Those soldiers, they'll kill him."

"You don't have to tell me twice. Can you stand?"

With Varric's help, she labored to her feet, but her legs buckled under her and she gave another cry of pain.

"Shit. Hawke, you're in no condition to go anywhere. I'll find Anders and bring him back here, he can patch you up." Varric helped Sarai prop herself up against the tree again. "Stay here, I'll be back as soon as I can."

With that, Varric strode off into the darkness. Hawke closed her eyes, cradling her right arm and trying to ignore the pain. All she could think of was Anders. _Please, Varric, bring him back safely._

~—~


	6. Templars Unbound

[**Author's Note**: An extra-long chapter this time. Enjoy!]

Chapter Six:

Templars Unbound

Sarai was not sure how much time had passed. She slipped in and out of consciousness, the pain in her shoulder and the burns on her legs nearly unbearable. The sound of footsteps approaching drew her attention. _Anders and Varric,_ she thought with relief. A moment later, she heard voices, and realized that it was not her friends approaching.

"Gone, blast it. Whoever brought those soldiers let him get away."

"Shh. There's a campfire up ahead. Step quietly."

The voices fell quiet, but heavy footsteps betrayed their position. Sarai guessed there were more than the two she had heard speaking. The footsteps grew closer, and soon she could see armored men approaching. The flaming swords decorating their breastplates revealed them to be Templars, and there were half a dozen of them. Her heart pounded in her chest, but she could barely move, much less defend herself.

The leader of the Templars approached, one hand on his sword. He looked to be several years older than Sarai, with closely cropped black hair and a tan complexion. There was a hardness in his eyes that struck her with fear.

He looked around the campsite, noting the dead king beside her. Then he took in Sarai's appearance and her injuries, finally remarking, "Not a mage—she's armed with daggers." He disarmed her, then leaned close, clearly trying to intimidate with his large frame. "Tell me what happened here."

She kept her mouth tightly closed. The Templar drew his sword and pointed it at her throat. "If you are who I suspect, then you can tell me the location of the maleficar Anders. Now, speak, and tell me what has transpired here."

"If you want me for information, then you won't drive your sword through my neck," she responded weakly.

"That is true. For the time being, you are more valuable to me alive than dead. But do not assume that you have the upper hand as a result." He turned back to his men. "The maleficar will be looking for her. We should take her back to the camp at once."

One of the other Templars stepped forward and grabbed her by the arm to pull her to her feet. She screamed in pain again, and the Templar took a step backward, startled.

"Can't you see she's injured?" snapped his commander with obvious impatience. "If she could walk, she wouldn't have been sitting here waiting for us to capture her. You'll have to carry her."

The junior Templar knelt and scooped Sarai into his arms, though with no great gentleness. She swallowed, tying to keep her stomach from rebelling against the pain. The dark-haired Templar leader took off into the darkness, his men falling in behind him.

~—~

Anders came to in an unfamiliar stand of trees. The sun was rising and birds sang overhead. At his side, Behemot rested, though the dog perked up when he saw Anders was awake. Scattered around them were the bodies of Sebastian's soldiers.

The events of the previous night were a blur. He remembered the arrows striking the barn... Sebastian demanding Hawke's surrender... and then Justice must have taken control. Images swam in his mind's eye of archers and swordsmen falling before his magic. Behemot had torn the throats out of those who came too close. But what had happened to Sarai—and Sebastian? He did not remember seeing either of them after the battle began.

He surged to his feet, shaking away the cobwebs of sleep. _Sarai. I have to find her._ Fear surged within him. The thought that something might have happened to her nearly caused him to lose control of himself. _No. Stay focused. You have to find your way back to the barn_. He dared to hope that she would be there, waiting for him.

Behemot gave a whine of concern. "Do you know the way back?" he asked the Mabari. With an eager bark, the dog set off to the south. "Well, I'm glad at least one of us remembers how we got here," he muttered, following.

Some time later, Anders climbed the crest of a small hill and saw what remained of the barn—now a smoking ruin. He rushed down to the barn, looking everywhere for Sarai. There were bodies laying about, but none of them belonged to Sarai or Sebastian. Behemot circled the barn for the third time, whining for his master.

"I don't suppose you can track a scent, can you?" Behemot just looked at Anders. "No? Neither can I. I was always better at hiding than tracking." Anders tried to spot a trail, any sign that might tell him where Sarai had gone. Finally, he thought he could see a line of broken grass, leading off to the west. He set out immediately, praying that he would find Sarai unharmed.

~—~

The sun was rising as the Templars returned to their camp. Sarai had tried to keep track of where they were going, but it was a losing battle. Her mind was still fogged, and every bump and jostle sent another stab of pain into her awareness. She didn't even realize they had stopped until the Templar set her down on a fallen log.

The commander was making his way to the center of the camp. Sarai realized that the Templars who had found her must have been part of a much larger contingent. There were over a dozen tents arranged around a central fire, and Templars moving to and fro all around her. The commander had made his way to a tent on the far side of the circle, and he now leaned inside, apparently to find someone. When he stepped back, an elderly mage came out of the tent and followed him back to where Sarai was sitting, still guarded by the Templar who had carried her.

"I need her healed, Wynne. Get to it."

The mage came forward and knelt in front of Sarai. She clicked her tongue against her teeth when she saw the burn marks. "I hesitate to ask what happened to you, child."

Sarai looked down at her feet. "I was tortured," she said simply.

"Well, I will see what I can do to help." The mage stretched out her hands, and the familiar feeling of healing magic washed over Sarai. The pain dulled, and the raw burns on her legs began to shrink and change to a pale pink color.

"That's better, isn't it?" Wynne said. Without waiting for a reply, she turned her attention to Sarai's shoulder. "Oh, my. Let me see." Magic flowed from her fingers and Sarai felt the pain recede.

Wynne turned to the Templar commander. "Jorrick, her shoulder has been pulled out of joint. I'll need you to force it back in." As Jorrick stepped forward, Wynne saw the panic in Sarai's face. "Don't worry. I'll ease the pain. We'll make this as quick as possible."

Feeling the Templar's hands on her arm made Sarai break out in a cold sweat. She closed her eyes. Wynne's healing magic flowed through her, and Jorrick forced her arm back into place. For a moment, she thought she would faint, but then it was over. Jorrick stepped back, and Wynne carefully repaired the muscles and ligaments. "There you go. It will be stiff for a few weeks, I expect, but it will heal fully in time."

Jorrick made a sharp motion, indicating that Wynne should step back. "Thank you for your assistance. Now I will question her."

Sarai saw a look of irritation flash across Wynne's face, but it was gone as quickly as it came. Quietly, the mage responded, "Jorrick, perhaps if you leave me alone with her, I can discover the information you need."

Now the Templar looked irritated, but he gave a nod. "Very well." He looked to the junior Templar, who had remained nearby. "Leo, take her to the prisoner's tent and secure her."

The other Templar, Leo, pulled Sarai to her feet and led her to one of the tents. Inside, a heavy metal stake had been driven into the ground; manacles were attached to the stake. He chained her legs, then left her with Wynne.

The mage pursed her lips at the sight of the chains. "I am sorry that they feel it necessary to chain you. I wonder, who exactly are you, to inspire such caution?"

Sarai looked at her suspiciously. "I wonder, who exactly are you, a mage traveling with so many Templars?"

Wynne smiled. "I see. Very well, I will answer your questions first. My name is Wynne, as you no doubt heard. I was a mage of the Ferelden Circle."

"Was?"

"The Ferelden Circle rebelled several weeks ago. I'm surprised you did not know."

"I've heard... rumors," Sarai admitted. "But haven't the Templars broken free from the rule of the Chantry so they can hunt and kill the rebel mages?"

"So you know more than you let on," Wynne replied. "Yes, the Templars have... set aside many of their old rules. But they are not monsters. You see that they have let me live."

"I imagine you're an exception," Sarai said with some bitterness.

"When the Circle rebelled, many mages were killed," Wynne sighed. "I was far too old to fight, and besides, I did not wish to. I turned myself in to the Templars immediately, offering my services as a healer. It is an arrangement much like the one I had in the Circle—I use my gifts under the watchful eye of the Templars."

Sarai couldn't help but snort. "So you're their pet mage, trotted out whenever a prisoner needs healing. I'm surprised they don't keep you on a leash."

"It must be true, then," remarked Wynne. "You do know Anders. You sound just like him."

"What do you know about Anders?" she shot back.

"I knew him in the Circle. In fact, I remember the day he came to the Circle. Poor boy," she said. "He was so miserable. I tried to take him under my wing, offer him a bit of comfort in a frightening time. But he would have none of it. He quickly became angry with his fate. From what I gather, not much has changed."

"More than you know," Sarai replied.

"I've heard rumors myself, you know. That he's possessed, an abomination. And what he did in Kirkwall—"

"He's not an abomination!"

Wynne smiled, apparently amused by Sarai's devotion. "I didn't say I thought he was. But those are the rumors. Although Rhiannon Aeducan tells a different story."

"Aeducan? You mean... the Hero of Ferelden?"

"Yes, indeed. I travelled with her for a time, after Ostagar. I suppose I played my small part in ending the Blight. She and I continue to correspond."

"Anders said she was the one who conscripted him into the Wardens."

"So she told me. And sometime shortly thereafter, she accidentally brought a Spirit of Justice back from the Fade."

Sarai stared. "You know then. About Justice."

"I know what Rhiannon chose to tell me. And I have made a few educated guesses myself."

A thought occurred to Sarai, and she grabbed one of Wynne's hands. "You have to let me go. Tell the Templars—Jorrick—they have to let me go."

"What?"

"Anders will be looking for me. If he finds me here, no one will survive. He'll kill them all. If the Templars let me go, I can find Anders, we'll move on."

"There are thirty Templars here. You think one mage can kill them all?"

"Yes," she replied without hesitation. "He can and he will. He... he'll lose control, and when he does, there is no stopping him."

Wynne stared at Sarai. "Jorrick intends to use you as bait. He wants to draw Anders in."

"Then he's a fool. Tell him to let me go, if he wants to live to see another sunrise."

Wynne rose, concern written on her features. "I will tell him what you have said, but I doubt he will listen." Then she was gone from the tent, and Sarai was alone.

~—~


	7. Vengeance

Chapter Seven:

Vengeance

Anders pressed relentlessly on through the rolling hills, Behemot bounding at his side. He had found the makeshift camp, had found Sebastian's body pierced with arrows. Dead, then, but not at Sarai's hand, since she was not proficient as an archer. The footprints told him that others had been at the camp and moved on; it was this trail he now struggled to follow. His thoughts tormented him. _What if she was never there with Sebastian? What if she was injured in the battle and is lying somewhere even now, wounded—or dead?_ Anders swallowed, his breath coming in ragged gasps. _Let me find her. Let me be fast enough._

He came upon the Templar camp as the sun was setting. He would have stumbled directly into it if Behemot hadn't stopped and given a warning growl. Man and Mabari snuck around the outskirts of the camp. It was bordered on one side by a stand of trees; Anders his and tried to peer into the camp.

The armor told him that they were Templars. It took a tremendous effort of will to keep himself in control at that point, to keep from charging in mindlessly to kill them. _That's what you did last night, with Sebastian's men, and look where it got you_, he scolded himself.

The Templars prepared their evening meal and sat around the fire. He observed one of the younger Templars take a dish of food into a small tent. _One of their own—wounded, perhaps? Or a prisoner?_ He watched for several more minutes, until the Templar came out of the tent. Then he saw her, emerging into the twilight. Her legs were chained.

_No no no _"No!" he roared, losing himself to that inner fire. The Templars looked up, shock on their faces. He charged into the camp, killing them with blasts of pure energy, not even bothering to cast spells. Sarai was their prisoner, and he would—he _must_—free her. A sword came down on his shoulder, but he knew it could not hurt him. _I am Vengeance. Nothing can stop me_.

The Templars fell before him, one after another. He dimly saw the fear and shock on their faces as their resolve melted away. Then the Templars were gone and he rushed to her; but another figure rose up in front of him. He saw the robes, saw the gray-white hair, but all he recognized was an obstacle. He raised a hand to strike.

"Anders, no! Don't hurt her!" The voice is almost enough to bring him back to himself. Almost.

"I will destroy all Templars! All those who threaten you!"

"She's not a Templar—she's a mage!" Sarai couldn't help but remember having this conversation before, with different Templars, a different mage. _Has anything changed?_

"She is one of them! She travels with them!"

"Anders, please. Don't do this."

Hearing the pain in Sarai's voice, he brought himself under control. Now he could recognize Wynne from the Circle, but she was not his concern. Instead, he turned and crossed the distance between himself and his love. "I'm sorry," he whispered, reaching out a hand.

Before their fingers could touch, an arrow flew through the darkness, out of the stand of trees, and caught Anders between the ribs. He gasped and fell forward. Now it was Sarai's turn to scream.

"No!" She fell to her knees, grabbing for the dagger at his waist. Her legs were still chained, and she couldn't move more than a few feet from the tent. Quickly, she stood over him, brandishing the dagger. The second arrow she cut out of the air. "You will not have him!"

Wynne was nowhere to be seen. Not knowing what else to do, Sarai grabbed Anders and awkwardly dragged him back into the tent. _There must still be Templars hiding in the trees_, she thought as she cradled Anders' head in her lap.

"Anders, can you hear me? Please, Anders..."

His eyes fluttered open. "Sarai," he murmured. Blood spotted his lips.

"Anders, I'm so sorry—if I hadn't said anything, distracted you, they couldn't have hurt you."

He closed his eyes again. His mana was spent, nothing left for healing or for fighting. "They'll kill us both, now."

"With all due respect to your naysaying, no, they won't." Sarai and Anders both looked up in surprise at this third voice. Wynne ducked into the tent, pulling the flap closed behind her.

"Wynne? What are you doing here?" Sarai asked, surprised.

"It seems I owe you my life, Sarai Hawke," Wynne replied. "I intend to repay the favor." She looked Anders over with a critical eye. "You'll have to remove the arrow; I will repair the damage."

Sarai was startled, but hurried to do as the older mage instructed. She carefully gripped the arrow and pulled it out. Anders gave a short cry of pain, but Wynne let her magic flow into him. After several moments of concentration, she said, "There. I don't think we can spare the time to do a full healing right now, but you will live."

Anders' only response was to glare darkly at Wynne. "Sarai," he said harshly, "Don't trust her. She's loyal to the Templars. She'll turn us in as soon as she has a chance."

Frowning, Sarai leaned close to Anders. She gently put her hand on the side of his face. "Anders, she saved your life. She healed me earlier. Be more grateful."

"Healed you?" Anders replied, suddenly concerned. "What happened?" He began looking her over, noticing for the first time the shiny new skin on her legs.

"Sebastian," she replied softly.

Anders choked on his anger. "Sebastian? What did he do to you?"

Sarai looked away. "It's not important. What matters is that I'm safe now—thanks in no small part to Wynne."

Wynne had watched this exchange with some interest. "You are a lucky man, Anders," she remarked now. "To have found a woman who can put up with your moods. Maker knows I can't."

Just then, they heard a self-satisfied bark outside. Sarai lifted the tent flap to see Behemot, his face streaked with blood. "Did you kill the other Templars?" she asked. He barked again, apparently pleased with himself.

"That's good news for you two," Wynne said. "Now we need to get you out of here. I know a place where you'll be safe. You can stay there and recover."

"Wynne, why are you helping us?" Sarai asked. "Not that I don't appreciate what you've done. But I was under the impression that you... well, approved of the Templars."

"As I told you, I do not believe Templars are monsters, but neither do I believe they are innocent," she replied. "In any case, they are dead now, and there is nothing I can do about that. As for why I choose to help you?" Wynne smiled to herself. "Let us just say that I still remember a frightened mage-boy who wanted nothing more than to feel safe. Perhaps I can finally assist him."

Anders looked at Wynne with something like amazement in his eyes. Before he could respond, she rose quickly and looked out of the tent. "Your Mabari has done his work well, it seems. Let's take care of those chains and be on our way." She went out, searching the dead Templars until she found a ring of keys. She returned quickly and freed Sarai, who rubbed her ankles gratefully.

Slowly, Wynne and Sarai helped Anders make his way out of the camp. The elder mage led them to the road and on their way.

~—~

Another night of tracking left Varric feeling particularly frustrated. When he finally caught up to his companions in the hours before dawn, he was surprised to find them traveling in the company of another mage.

"So what, you think you've upgraded or something? From a loyal, handsome, entertaining dwarf to an old lady mage?"

Sarai turned, delighted, and threw her arms around Varric. "Thank Andraste you found us! I didn't know what happened to you after you left."

"I'll tell you what happened! I spent all night wandering around, searching for Blondie here, and by the time I gave up and went back to check on you, you were gone. Captured by Templars, I gather."

"How did you know that?" Sarai asked.

"Because I stumbled across a camp full of dead Templars a few hours ago. All the melted armor and swords suggested it was Blondie's handiwork."

"I take it this is a friend of yours?" Wynne asked pointedly.

"Oh, yes, forgive me. Wynne, this is Varric, house Tethras. Varric, this is Wynne. She's helping to get us to safety."

"Wynne, huh? The only Ferelden mage named Wynne I've heard of was a companion to the hero of Ferelden."

"You know your stories, Varric Tethras," replied Wynne with a smile.

"Stories are my business, my lady," Varric said with an exaggerated bow. He straightened and frowned. "Actually, business is my business. Stories are my passion. In any case, I'm sure _you_ have some interesting ones to tell."

"I might have one or two," she admitted. "But this is hardly the time for it. There's a farmstead not too far from here. The couple who lives there are friends, of a sort."

"Of a sort?" Anders said skeptically. "What exactly are you getting us into?"

"They are no enemy to runaway mages," Wynne assured. "They will give us shelter, at least until you two have recovered."

"Then let's keep moving," Sarai urged. "This day has been far too long already."

~—~


	8. Healing

[**Author's Note**: An extra-long chapter! In which we discover the meaning of the title of the story. Enjoy!]

Chapter Eight:

Healing

With the help of Varric and Wynne, Sarai and Anders staggered down the road. They turned off onto a narrow, rutted track, and another half hour of walking led them to one of the many farmhouses scattered across the Bannorn. This one was different than most, however: it was still occupied. A pleasant line of smoke rose from the chimney, and the smell of baking bread wafted out the open door. They could hear a woman's voice singing tunelessly.

Wynne stepped forward. "These people are friends," she said. "But you'd better let me go in first. I don't want to startle them." She left the other three and went to the door.

There was an exclamation from inside, and a middle-aged woman appeared in the doorway. Delighted, she drew Wynne into a tight hug. Then she stepped back and noticed the companions standing in the yard.

"Oh, Wynne, why didn't you say you'd brought guests? And they look injured. Maker's mercy, come in, come in. I'm Lenora. My husband's out in the fields right now, otherwise he'd want to greet you himself. Come in!" She took Sarai by the wrist and led her firmly into the house. The smell of hot food—a luxury they had not been able to afford for some time—washed over her. Sarai could have cried in relief. Anders, meanwhile, looked dead on his feet; he could barely keep his eyes from closing.

"These two are in need of rest. They need time to heal. You were the only ones I could think of," Wynne explained, sounding apologetic. "I'm sorry to impose."

"No, no, don't apologize," Lenora replied. "We may not have much these days, but we're always happy to share." Turning to Sarai and Anders, she said, "Let's get you upstairs and into some beds. I can bring up some nice hot stew for you to eat later."

Before Sarai could even respond, the industrious farmwoman was leading them up the stairs to the second level of the farmhouse. A hallway stretched in both directions from the top of the stairs. Lenora led them to the right, where two doors were visible. "All right then, young lady—what did you say your name was?—oh, listen to me, there's plenty of time for that later. You can sleep in here, it's my daughter's old room. There's clean sheets on the bed, if you get cold, I'll bring you another blanket." With a friendly shove, Sarai was forced into the small bedroom, which had little space beyond the narrow bed, a chamber pot, and a small writing desk with a chair.

She sat on the bed and tried to get a grasp on the situation. Lenora bore much in common with a whirlwind, all apron and elbows and friendly energy. She heard Anders being hustled into the next room with as little chance to get a word in edgewise.

Almost in spite of herself, Sarai found herself smiling. It had been a very long time since she had been taken care of. _Not since Father died,_ she thought to herself. _Ever since he died, I've been the one looking after the family, my friends, Anders_... For the moment, it was enough to know that she was safe, that she had a real bed to sleep in, and that there was a promise of stew in the future. Her eyes grew heavy, and she laid down and slept.

~—~

Sarai woke to a gentle knock on the door. Sitting up, she rubbed her eyes as Wynne entered. The older woman was carrying a tray with a steaming bowl of stew and a hunk of fresh bread. Sarai's stomach let out a growl as the smell reached her.

With a laugh, Wynne set the tray down. "I see you are hungry. Good. Your body needs food to recover. Why don't you eat, and I'll take a look at that shoulder?"

"Thank you," Sarai said, diving for the food. As she shoveled stew into her mouth, Wynne rested a light hand on her shoulder. She felt the tingle of healing magic. The ache in her shoulder began to fade. Wynne made a satisfied noise. "Yes, it will heal. Let me know if it continues to trouble you."

"It's sore," Sarai admitted through a mouthful of the flaky bread. _Maker, I missed Ferelden food!_ "But your magic helps."

"I should hope so," Wynne smiled.

"How's Anders?"

"Still asleep. I think the battles took more out of him than they did you." Seeing the concern in Sarai's eyes, Wynne assures her, "He'll be fine. When he wakes up, I will see to his wound. But for now, let him rest."

Sarai nodded, still intent on finishing her meal. When she was done, Wynne moved to take the tray back downstairs, but Sarai put out a hand to stop her. "I'll carry it. I want to thank our hosts, anyway."

Together, the two women went downstairs. Sarai could see it was late afternoon. Lenora was tending to a large pot over the fire, while Varric sat at the plain wooden table, talking to another man. Behemot looked up at her and wagged his tail, but showed no interest in moving from his spot by the door.

"Listen, I'd be happy to pay you for room and board as long as we need to stay," the dwarf was saying. "I have a vested interest in keeping those two alive—"

"Oh?" said Wynne as she came down the stairs. "I have to confess, I'm curious—what is your vested interest?"

Varric looked up. "Hawke! You're awake!" He glanced at Wynne. "Spend any time around this one, Lady Gray, and you'll find out she's a never-ending fountain of story material."

"And Anders?" Sarai teased.

"You come as a pair, Ser Hawke. Got to keep him alive, too."

"Lady Gray?" Wynne muttered. "Did he just call me Lady Gray?"

Taking advantage of the lull in the conversation, the man at the table stood. "I understand from your friends here that you're Sarai Hawke. Pleased to meet you. Name's Roger."

"Thank you so much for letting us into your home," Sarai said, giving a respectful bow. "I hope we can repay you for your kindness."

The farmer shook his head. "No need. And I won't take your coin either, dwarf."

"We pride ourselves on offering help to those who need it," Lenora explained. She had moved to the wash basin and was cleaning some root vegetables. "It's our hope that someone is doing the same for our daughter, wherever she is."

"Your daughter?" Sarai asked as she took a seat at the table.

Roger nodded. "Our girl. Kristine. She was taken from this very table when she was seven years old. Haven't seen her since. That was over ten years ago." A look of grief passed over his face.

"Kristine was a mage," added Wynne. "I met her at the Circle Tower. She told me about her family, and when I was traveling in this part of Ferelden, I would visit them and deliver messages from her. When the mages rebelled, she fled. I haven't seen her since. I'd hoped that she would have returned home by now."

Lenora dried her hands on a towel and sat next to her husband. "We're not sure if she even remembers the way," she said sadly, her earlier exuberance gone. "So we can only hope that some kind stranger is taking care of her. There's not many places for mages in this world anymore."

"Aye," agreed Roger. "The Tower was no blessing, but at least there we knew she had a roof over her head and three meals a day. And Wynne here looking out for her. Now mages don't even have that much protection."

Varric shot Sarai a look, which she understood to mean _You'd better not tell them about Anders_. She was inclined to agree with him. But another thought was growing in her mind, fed by echoed fragments of other conversations.

_He should come with us. Do what he can to make things right._

_We will fight for a world where our children can be born mages, and free_.

_Where did you learn your magic, Bethany? I mean, you know my feelings on the Circle, but usually it's the only decent training a mage can get... __My father taught me. He was in the Circle once, trained there. But he got away... You don't know how lucky you were, to have someone who loved you and could help you. Most mages would kill for that... You remind me of him._

"Hawke? Hawke." Varric snapped his fingers in front of his friend's face to get her attention. "Care to bring the rest of us in on your internal conversation?"

"I've just had the most amazing idea," she said, almost dazed by the thought of it.

"So I gather from your far-away look. Now, assuming it doesn't involve what you'd like to do to Anders when he's healed, would you care to enlighten the rest of us?"

Sarai looked around the table. Dwarf, mage, and two desperate parents. She smiled. "I think I'm going to need your help. All of you."

~—~

After Sarai had outlined her plan, and heard their suggestions and modifications, her heart was pounding with excitement. Finally, she had a purpose again. She knew what to do—for Anders, for Justice, for Bethany. It was brilliant. Now she just had to convince Anders.

She excused herself and hurried upstairs. She slipped quietly into Anders' room. She could only see the lump on the bed, buried under a mountain of blankets and sheets. "Anders? Are you awake?"

"I am now," he said with mock irritation. He rolled over, pushing blankets out of the way, and smiled at her. "Maker, you are a beautiful sight."

"That's probably just the pain talking," she replied lightly, moving to sit on the side of the bed.

"Hmm-mm. I think it's you." He sat up partway, putting a hand on her neck and pulling her down for a kiss.

"I'm so glad you're all right," she whispered.

"I feel the same way."

She moved closer to him, laying herself out on the bed beside him. Her body ached for his touch, but for now, it was enough just to be in his arms again. She rested her head on his shoulder with a contented sigh. He wrapped his arms around her tightly, as though he would never let go. After a long while, she tilted her face up to look at him, squinting at his stubble. "Anders?"

"Yes, my love?"

"Do you remember, you said something to me once. About a world in which mages could learn to use their gifts and still go home at night to see their families?"

"Yes," he replied. "It's a nice dream, isn't it?"

She sat up a little farther, now looking down at him. "What if it weren't a dream?"

Now he frowned. "There's no place like that, Sarai. You know that as well as I do."

"There's no place like that _yet_," she corrected, the flush of excitement returning to her cheeks.

"What are you getting at?"

"A school for mages, Anders. A place where they could learn to use the gifts the Maker gave them. A place where they'd be safe."

"Sounds like another Circle to me," he replied dismissively.

"No, not if you and I were running it. There would be no Templars, no Rite of Tranquility. No fear. It would be a safe haven for mages, the place you always wanted."

"You want... to build a school for mages? Single-handedly?" A scowl darkened Anders features. He had followed her into seemingly hopeless battles, watched her defeat the Arishok in single combat, but still he found it hard to believe that she could do such a thing.

"It wouldn't be single-handedly. Varric knows some surface dwarves who could do the construction. We could send word to Bethany, she could come back to help. The couple who own this farm, they can help us gather supplies and people. We can do this, Anders."

"Sarai..." He sighed. "Doesn't this seem, I don't know, overly ambitious?"

"When has over-ambition _not_ been my greatest strength?" she asked, a hint of humor in her voice. "I came to Kirkwall a penniless refugee, and in less than four years, I had earned a fortune and reclaimed a noble estate."

"This is—different! This is the fate of the mages we're talking about."

"Exactly," she agreed, growing serious. "Anders, your whole life is devoted to justice for mages. But you've lost sight of what that means. Justice isn't just killing Templars and blowing up the Chantry. Justice is also caring for the poor and healing the sick. Your clinic had as much to do with Justice as your bomb did. More so, in my mind."

He sat up, looking at her with wide golden eyes. "What are you trying to say?"

"You've destroyed so much. Don't you think it's time to create something new in the place of all that destruction?"

His gaze fell to his hands, folded on his lap. "A new creation." He turned her words over in his mind, testing them against the Fade Spirit who had become a part of his identity. _Justice is about more than destruction, she's right. Why else would I have gone back to the clinic so many times, even when I was sick and starving myself? But this, creating a new thing, a real alternative to the Circle of Magi..._

"Does it have to be us?" he asked suddenly, selfishly. _Can't I just be with you? Isn't that enough?_

She nodded firmly. "It can't be anyone but us, Anders. And it has to be now. The Circles are falling apart. Mages are being hunted by Templars who no longer abide by any law. They will either be killed, or they'll resort to blood magic and demons to defend themselves. In a few years, there will be no mages left—and no one to teach the next generation."

The thought of it made him shudder. Mage children with no one to teach them to control their powers. They would be killed or would inadvertently kill others.

He looked back into her green eyes. "You won't take no for an answer, will you?"

"I'll sit here as long as it takes," she replied with a smile.

"Do you know how extraordinary you are?" Once again, he pulled her in for a kiss. "Very well, my love. You have been the Champion of Kirkwall; now you will be the Champion of Mages."

"I think you deserve that title." She rested her forehead against his. "Thank you. I can't do this without you."

"And I couldn't do anything without you."

~—~


	9. Construction

[**Author's Note**: Sorry for the delay, this chapter gave me a lot of trouble for some reason. I hope you enjoy, dear readers!]

Chapter Nine:

Construction

"The school will be built as a main hall with two wings," Sarai explained to Varric. They sat together at the kitchen table in the farmhouse. The table itself was covered with sketches and blueprints, their corners held down with potatoes and mismatched candlesticks. "The north wing, on this side, will have sleeping quarters—shared rooms for the younger mages and private rooms upstairs for the teachers and older mages. The south wing will have a kitchen and pantry on the lower level, while the upper level will have classrooms." She gestured at her blueprints while she continued, "Here, in the main part of the building, there will be a dining hall and common spaces. The upper level will house the library."

"You missed your calling, Hawke, you should have been an architect."

Sarai brushed her brown hair out of her eyes with an easy smile. "It won't be a thing of beauty, but it will have everything we need."

"I went out yesterday to see the land with Roger. There are so many farmsteads out here that were destroyed by the Blight, the families killed, no one left to work the land or even claim it. The spot Roger found is only a half hour's walk from here, on the other side of that hill. You'll have plenty of space."

A few weeks had passed since Sarai conceived of the idea for the mage school. Varric had sent word to the dwarven builders. Roger had helped them to find a piece of land for the construction. Lenora helped Sarai to make lists of the materials they would need—from stone and wood for the building, to furniture and food once it was complete. Wynne and Anders had begun to track down rumors of mages, whether runaways from the Circle or children who had never been found by the Templars.

At that moment, Anders was sitting outside the farmhouse, sunning himself in the unseasonably warm spring weather. Approaching footsteps caused him to open his eyes and reach uneasily for his staff. He stood when he saw the newcomers were two dwarves, one brown-bearded, the other blonde. "Sarai," he called, "I think your builders are here."

"Name's Voldrik Glavonak, and this's my half-wit brother, Dworkin."

"Watch yourself, brother, or you'll find one of my explosives under your bed," the blonde dwarf, Dworkin, threatened. Then he looked more closely at Anders. "Hold on a second, don't I know you?"

Anders looked at the two dwarves in confusion. "No... Wait... I do know you! You were at Vigil's Keep!" He pointed at Voldrik as Sarai and Varric came into the sunshine. "You rebuilt the Keep to withstand the Darkspawn attack. And you—" now he turned back to Dworkin. "You're that mad dwarf with the explosives."

"Is this some kind of reunion, Anders?" Sarai asked with interest.

"Surprisingly, yes. I met these two when I was with the Wardens in Amaranthine."

"That's right," Voldrik agreed. "You're that ridiculous mage the Warden Commander recruited."

Anders drew himself up to his full height and glared down at the dwarf. "I wasn't ridiculous!" He cried. Behind him, Varric doubled over with laughter.

"Oh, this is too good. I can't wait to hear what you were like back then, Blondie." Varric said, still chuckling.

"So is it true, then," Voldrik asked, "Did you really make some kind of Void-sent deal with that walking corpse? What did he call himself—Justice, right?"

Suddenly, Anders stiffened. Sarai reached slowly for one of her blades. Seeing their defensive movements, Voldrik held up his hands. "Slow down, now, I didn't mean any trouble. It was just a rumor I heard after the defense of the Keep."

"Justice and I are one now," Anders said cautiously. "Most people who find out about it want me dead."

"Oh, is that it? Well, you don't have to worry about me!" Voldrik assured them, his brother nodding in agreement. "We couldn't care less, to be honest. Just making conversation, you understand."

Curious, Sarai asked, "It doesn't bother you that Anders hosts a Fade Spirit?"

"Why would it?" Dworkin responded. "We're dwarves. We're immune to magic. Doesn't much bother us what mages do."

"Well, that's a pleasant change of pace after Kirkwall," Sarai replied. "So, you're here to build our school for us?"

"That's right. I'm the best builder coin can buy," Voldrik said proudly. "You just have to hope my brother doesn't decide to blow up my handiwork."

"Come on in," Varric said, sweeping out a hand toward the door. "Hawke has already drawn up the plans for you."

~—~

As the days progressed and the plan for the mage school began to take shape, the little group set to their tasks. Roger and Dworkin discussed sources for stone for the construction and the best method for extracting it. Varric muttered to himself about workers and salaries while Lenora counted on her fingers and planned meals. Voldrik examined the plans with Sarai, making adjustments here and there.

"You'll need the foundation to go this deep... Add a support pillar here... That window'll have to go..."

"I want it to look welcoming," Sarai insisted. "But it has to be defensible from outside threats, if it comes to that."

"_When_ it comes to that," Anders added darkly.

"Say, what happened to you, mage?" Voldrik asked, looking up from the work. "You used to be a real joker, always dropping puns and one-liners. And trying to get into bed with that elf girl—"

"Elf girl?" Sarai asked, raising an eyebrow suspiciously.

"Hah!" Dworkin boomed from the other side of the farmhouse. "I remember that! By the ancestors, she wanted nothing to do with you."

A flush spread across Anders' face. "I would rather not talk about this."

Varric moved closer to the conversation. "Our resident moping expert, cracking jokes? Now that I would have liked to see."

Anders looked ready to get up and leave, but Sarai put a conciliatory hand on his arm. "You have to admit, it does sound pretty different from the Anders we know and love."

Anders turned to look fully into Sarai's eyes. "I know," he answered. "Sometimes I think Justice took away my sense of humor... and I took away his sense of restraint."

Sarai shivered slightly under his gaze. A palpable silence filled the room. They were all grateful when Lenora chose that moment to set a heavy platter of roasted meat on the table. "That's enough heavy talk for one day. It's time you all had some supper."

~—~

The mage school rose gradually out of the rolling Bannorn hills. The crew of laborers, most of them dwarves, slept in tents outside the farmhouse. Roger worked tirelessly in the fields and Lenora in the kitchen to keep them all fed.

Sarai was amazed by the generosity of the couple. She saw the hardship of their lives—between the Blight and the loss of their only child—yet they never hesitated to welcome another mouth to the table. They continued to refuse Varric's offers of coin. One day, a brand new plow was delivered to the farmhouse unexpectedly. No one could figure out where it came from or who had paid for it, but Sarai did not fail to notice the broad smile on Varric's face as he walked past. _Still looking after his friends_, she thought to herself.

Weeks passed, turning spring into early summer. The foundation and the first level of the school were completed. The dwarves added scaffolding and pulleys to raise the stone to the second level. Wynne divided her time between exploring the surrounding area, gathering medicinal herbs, and tracking down rumors of mages. One day, she came to Sarai and Anders as they observed the construction work.

"I've heard something. I think the two of you will want to look into it."

"Oh?" Sarai replied. "News?"

"Yes. I've been hearing rumors of a young mage somewhere in the area. His powers may have manifested several weeks ago, but I doubt the remaining Templars have received word of him. I managed to find out where his family is—they're about a day's journey from here, on the other side of Wheat's End."

Wheat's End was the name of the nearest village to the farmstead. Sarai did some quick thinking. "It's late now, but we could leave early tomorrow morning and get there before sunset. Do you want to come along, Wynne?"

"To be honest, I think my old bones would just slow you down. You and Anders should go, you can cover the distance more quickly."

"What do you think, Anders? Ready to meet your first student?"

Anders grimaced. "I'm no teacher, you know."

"You don't know that," Sarai responded as the two walked back to the farmhouse to prepare their gear. "You've never tried."

The next day, they set out before dawn. The journey was easy; they followed the dirt road that had led them to the farmhouse weeks before. When they passed through Wheat's End, a few of the residents gave them odd looks, but they encountered no trouble. It was late afternoon when they found the cottage Wynne had described.

"Hello?" Sarai called out. "Is anyone here?"

There was a flicker of movement inside the cottage before a man came out. "Who are you? What do you want with us? We're just simple folk, we don't want any trouble."

"You don't have anything to fear from us," Sarai began. "We're here about your son."

The man flinched visibly. "I—I don't know what you're talking about. My wife and I, we're childless."

"Sarai, I think you should let me handle this," Anders muttered. He took a step forward, loosing the staff from his back so it was even more visible. "We're not here to harm your son."

The man's eyes widened. "Are you a mage?"

"Yes, a mage and an apostate. We're here to help you, if we can."

"I don't know what you mean," the man replied, clearly still mistrustful. "We don't need any help."

"We know that your son is a mage," Anders said gently. "Have his powers started to manifest? It can be frightening. My own father beat me the first time I cast a spell."

The breath caught in Sarai's throat. It was yet another tragic detail Anders had never mentioned before. _Maker, what he's been through..._ She wanted to reach out and take his hand, but she forced herself to remain still. She could see that Anders was trying to earn the man's trust.

The stranger's eyes shifted back and forth nervously. "What do you want with my boy?"

"We want to help him, teach him to control his gifts. Give him a chance at a normal life." Anders waited a moment, watching the man closely. "Please, let us come in so we can talk."

The man nodded wearily and led them into the cottage. It was clean, but small and sparse. There was a small stove next to a table with some chairs. A small bed was pushed up against one wall, while an open door revealed the other room in the cottage to have another, slightly larger, bed. Through the doorway, Sarai could see a young woman, no older than herself, sheltering a small boy. Her face was tired and twisted with fear.

"It's all right, Marie. Come on out." The man gestured to his wife. "This is Marie, and I'm Tam. Our boy is Peter."

The child peeked around his mother's skirts and smiled. Anders got down on one knee to look at the boy. "Peter, is it? You can call me Anders." He held out a hand as if to offer a handshake. Fearlessly, the boy shot forward, grabbing Anders' fingers in his little hands and twisting them in different directions. "Ow! What was that for?"

Sarai felt a tug at her heart. In that moment, she couldn't help but see Anders as a father. A surge of longing shot through her, so strong it brought tears to her eyes. She forced herself to look at the couple. "And I'm Sarai. I'm sorry if our coming here frightened you."

Marie nervously tugged at her hair. "What do you want from us, anyway? We only want to be left alone."

"Let them sit down," her husband said, "and we can talk about it."

Sarai moved over to the table and sat in one of the rough-hewn chairs. "We heard about your son. We came because—well. We're opening a school for mages." Though she was far from ineloquent, she suddenly found herself at a loss for words. _How can I explain what I'm trying to do? How can I convince these people to trust me?_

Once again, Anders stepped in to help her, ignoring Peter tugging at the hem of his coat. "Peter is a mage, I can sense that myself. We don't want any harm to come to him. But he'll need to learn to control his gifts. Otherwise he could burn down your house in a bad temper or fall prey to a demon in his sleep."

Marie began to weep, startling the visitors. "Maker, I knew this would happen. My poor Peter, my poor boy..."

Tam put an arm around his wife's shoulders. "There, there. It's better this way. Better they take him away than letting him get killed."

Sarai and Anders exchanged a look—hers concerned, his understanding. "This isn't the Circle Tower we're talking about," he told them. "Surely you've heard that the mages rebelled? There is no Tower any more."

"Like that matters to us," Tam replied harshly. "You're still here to take our boy away from us."

"It doesn't have to be like this," said Sarai desperately. "We're not taking him away from you."

"Then what are you doing?" Marie demanded.

"We—" _Get your thoughts together, _Sarai berated herself inwardly. She took a breath. "The Circle Tower would have taken your son away from you. He would have been protected, trained, but a prisoner, with the threat of being made Tranquil always hanging over him. That's not what we are here to do." Seeing a spark of hope in the eyes of the parents, she continued with greater confidence. "We are creating a place where mages can be trained and still go home to their families at the end of the day. That's what we're trying to offer you."

"It sounds too good to be true," murmured the mother.

"It is too good to be true," replied Tam. "You think we can just leave everything and go to your school? You think we have the coin for that? We barely have enough to eat as it is."

Sarai pondered the questions. "Can you work?"

"Of course we can. Not like we can rely on the generosity of others."

"Then come. We'll give Peter the training he needs, and you can work at the school. Cooking, cleaning, anything. You don't have to lose your son."

Marie and Tam looked at one another. "Where is this school?" Marie asked finally.

"Only a day's journey from here. We left there this morning."

"Do you think... do you think we should?" she whispered to her husband.

"I just don't know," he muttered.

The silence stretched on. Finally, the moment was shattered when Peter began to scale Ander's back, grabbing hold of his blonde ponytail to pull himself up. "Aah! What are you doing now?" Anders looked at Sarai in desperation. "I think he's already possessed. Help me!"

The parents stared, not sure whether Anders was joking or not. But Sarai threw back her head and laughed at the sight. "Don't mind him," she gasped. "He hasn't spent much time with children."

So Tam and Marie agreed to leave the life they knew and try for a chance at a better one, a future for their son. As Sarai fell asleep that night on the floor of the cottage, she thought to herself, _So it begins. The Ferelden school for mages._

~—~


	10. Family Reunion

[**Author's Note**: Here's the latest installment! In which we meet one new character and one old friend. Please read and review.]

~—~

Chapter Ten:

Family Reunion

Anders and Sarai made their way back to the farmhouse with Tam, Marie, and Peter in tow. The young family had brought only what they could carry on their backs; there was little of value in their cottage, anyway.

"We shouldn't go through Wheat's End again," Anders told Sarai. "It'll be longer, but we should skirt around the village."

"Why? Something worrying you?"

"I think we attracted too much attention as it was yesterday. I'm not exactly, ah, poor Bannorn farmer material," he said, gesturing at his feathered pauldrons and staff. "For that matter, neither are you."

Sarai looked down at her armor—the best money could buy—and glanced at the blades that hovered menacingly around her shoulders like a blood-tinged halo. "All right. We'll cut south of the village."

Even with the detour, they arrived at the farmhouse before night had completely covered the plains. Lenora, in her usual manner, welcomed the newcomers warmly and set about preparing a meal for them.

"So this must be the little mage Wynne was telling us about. Oh, isn't he just a precious little thing? My, you all look famished. We've already eaten supper, but there's always extra in the bottom of the pot. We'll make sure you don't go to bed hungry."

Anders couldn't help but grin as he clapped Tam on the shoulder. The parents looked positively stunned by the display of unearned hospitality—probably exactly how Anders and Sarai had looked themselves when they arrived at the farmhouse. "Welcome to Lenora's kitchen. You will never go to bed hungry again."

~—~

It was three days later that their first unexpected visitors arrived. Sarai and Anders were going over some details with Voldrik when they heard shouts from the farmhouse, on the other side of the hill. Rushing back, they saw Varric standing outside, placing himself between their friends and the angry-looking mob. Sarai recognized a few faces from when they had passed through Wheat's End. Varric's hand strayed towards Bianca.

"What's going on?" Sarai said sharply, her voice cutting across the remaining distance as her legs stretched to close it.

"You're all a bunch of Blighted mages!" One man in the crowd shouted.

"Apostates!" Added another. "Abominations!"

The rest of the crowd shouted their agreement. _Torches and pitchforks_, Sarai thought with irritation. _I always did hate angry mobs_. She felt Anders move beside her, the air between them shivering with energy. "No," she murmured to him. "Don't confirm their suspicions, it will only lead to bloodshed. We will take care of this."

Anders breathed through his nose angrily, but clamped down on his emotions. "I trust you," he whispered, almost too quietly for her to hear.

Sarai moved to stand next to Varric. Anders flanked her on the other side. "We are not causing you any trouble," she told the first man who had spoken. "We ask only to be left alone." Her words were diplomatic, but her tone was still sharp.

"The Templars ought to send you all to the Void!" he snarled in response.

"Go. Away." Sarai said firmly. "I will not tell you again."

The crowd shifted like a growing wave. They were on the brink of breaking into violence. Sarai drew one of her blades and took a step forward. "You face no threat from these people. But if you do not leave now, peaceably, you will face a grave threat from me." She lowered the blade so it caught the bright sunshine. "Do you really want to find out how adept I am at using these?"

Anders' eyes were on his lover, but he could see the edges of the mob starting to dissipate, slinking away shame-faced. When the ringleader looked over his shoulder for support, he found it greatly diminished. He turned back to Sarai and gulped audibly.

"Go," she said, her voice softer now. "Do not come here again, and you will encounter no trouble from us."

He fell over himself as he stumbled away. With a brief backwards glance, he took off down the dirt road and was gone, the few remaining villagers following in his wake. Sarai nodded to the others and went back to her work.

Later that night, they received their second unexpected visitors.

~—~

Two mages stumbled over the rough ground. They were both young women, although one was nearly a decade older than the other, who was still a teenager. The older mage grabbed the hand of her companion and pulled her to her feet.

"Come on. We don't know if the Templars are still tracking us. We can't afford to stop."

"I'm so tired," the younger one replied. "I can't keep running, I just can't."

"We must be getting close to your parents' home, right? Help me find it, and we can rest once we get there." The older mage kept to herself another thought: _Even if we find it, we'll have to start running again before long. There's no safety in staying in one place. It would only put her family in danger_. A wave of guilt washed over her as she remembered her own family, and the dangers they had faced for her sake.

The younger girl slowed her pace and looked around. "The Bannorn all looks the same..." she said hesitantly. "Wait! I think I remember that cluster of trees! We must be close!" Suddenly filled with new energy, she took off in the direction of the trees.

The pair crested a hill and looked down. They could see a line of smoke rising from a chimney off to the left. To their right, they could see an impressive structure rising out of the plains, though the scaffolding indicated that it was unfinished.

"What is that?" gasped the young mage. "That definitely wasn't here before."

"But we're close, then?"

She pointed to the smoke. "That must be it. It's been ten years, but I'm almost certain that's it."

Once again, she rushed forward, desperate to see her home again. She hardly dared to think about all the awful possibilities—that they had been killed by the Darkspawn, or been starved out by the Blight. The mage had seen so much suffering since the Tower had fallen and she had fled for her life. What if her parents had been caught up in that? Or what if they didn't want anything to do with her, cursed as she was with magic?

She squeezed tears out of her eyes and ran faster. Before long, she was stumbling up to the farmhouse, confused by the small army of tents and—Are those dwarves? Then she saw the open door and forgot about everything else. She moved toward it, heart pounding painfully, and dared to look inside. There was a motley group of people around the table. She recognized Wynne, her mentor and friend from the Circle. She saw her father's face. His eyes met hers and he shot to his feet.

"Kristine?" he cried. "Oh, Maker! Lenora, it's our Kristine! It's our little girl!" An instant later, she was caught up in a tight embrace, sandwiched between her two parents. Lenora smoothed her hair and sobbed into her shoulder. Roger clapped her on the back, kissing her forehead.

Another figure darkened the door of the farmhouse. The setting sun shone around her dark locks. Nervously, the mage looked past her companion's tearful reunion and into the kitchen. Now it was Sarai's turn to stand, shocked. "Bethany?"

~—~

"I can't even believe you're here! Out of every farmhouse in Ferelden—no, Thedas—you happen to be in the one I stumble into?"

"I didn't even know you had come to Ferelden!" The sisters sat across from one another on the bed Sarai shared with Anders. They seemed hardly to know whether to be overjoyed or angry.

After the destruction of the Kirkwall Chantry, Sarai had sided with the mages, as she had always known she would. How could she not, with everything her father had taught her? With Bethany standing right there? Her loyalty to her family had been even greater than her loyalty to Anders, though they led her to the same decision.

Yet once Meredith was dead, and Sarai preparing to flee the city, Bethany had refused to remain with her sister. _"The mages here, the ones who survived, will need me. I can't abandon them,"_ she had said. _"It's too dangerous! Come with us. I swear I'll protect you!"_ Sarai had answered. With a gentle hand on her sister's shoulder, Bethany had shaken her head again. _"It's been a long time since you protected me, sister. It's too late for that. I have to make my own path."_

Now, here they were, side by side. "What happened?" Sarai asked gently, trying to bridge over years of distance. She doubted that Bethany blamed her for being taken to the Gallows. But their relationship had never been the same after that day.

"I fled Kirkwall with the other mages. To be honest, I think Cullen was happy to let us go. I think he was ready to live and let live, after everything that happened." Bethany looked down at her hands, remembering. "We didn't stay together long. There was one mage who stayed with me for a while. We made it all the way to Orlais before the Templars there caught up to us. He—he stayed to fight them. Gave me time to escape." A few tears fell, signs of a greater grief she had covered over.

"I stayed along the coast, coming all the way into Ferelden. When I heard that the Tower here had rebelled, I started looking for other runaway mages. I met Kristine not far from Lake Calenhad. She said she was trying to find her way back to her parents. So I came along. And here you are, as if you'd been waiting for me." She gave a half-smile and looked back at her sister. "What about you?"

"We crossed the Waking Sea and went to Amaranthine. We kept moving, and lost companions along the way, like you. And then—" she sighed. "Do you remember Sebastian Vael?"

"Wasn't he the last son of Starkhaven, sworn to the Chantry?"

Sarai nodded. "And after the explosion, the eventual Prince of Starkhaven. Sworn to take revenge on Anders."

"Wait. I heard rumors that the Prince of Starkhaven was killed on Ferelden soil. It's supposed to be a diplomatic crisis for Queen Anora. Are you saying you murdered him?"

Sarai snorted. "Hardly. Varric killed him. And more importantly, he deserved it."

"No one has the talent for collecting enemies that you do, sister." Bethany shook her head, torn between amusement and exasperation. "So what happened next?"

"Well, the Templars found me right after Sebastian did. Wynne was with them. And... well, it's a long story. Suffice it to say that the Templars died and Wynne led Anders and I here."

"What are you doing here, anyway? And why is there a whole camp of dwarves outside?"

"We're building a school," Sarai admitted.

"That big building on the other side? You're building a school? That seems... terribly normal of you."

"It's a school for mages. Apostates, if you want to be technical."

"Ah, now it all begins to make sense." Bethany shook her head again. "Sometimes I just can't believe you. A school for mages. An alternative to the Circle?"

"There is no Circle, not anymore. This is what will stand for the future. A sanctuary, a refuge of safety for mages where they can learn together."

"You sound _just_ like Anders, you know that?"

Sarai gave a girlish smile as a little color bloomed on her cheeks. "Well, we spend a lot of time together, you know." She grew serious again. "Will you stay with us, Bethany? I want you to be a part of this. I wanted to send word to you."

Bethany studied her sister's face, considering what she offered. "You want me to be a teacher? Share what I know with other mages?"

"Please?" Sarai tried not to beg, but her voice betrayed her.

"I suppose I don't have anywhere else to go, do I?" Bethany answered. "All right, sister. You can count on me."

~—~


	11. Blackmarsh Nightmare

[**Author's Apology**: It has been a really, really long time since I updated this story. I'm sorry. I'm a full-time student, so my schedule is pretty busy. From time to time, I would get an alert that someone had added my story to their subscription, which is so awesome. It's nice to know that people still want to read what I've written. And when I read back over the first ten chapters, I realized it's not as bad as my overly-critical self remembered. So I'm back with a new chapter, and hopefully a reasonable update schedule. Thanks for your patience, and enjoy!

Oh, and a quick note about this chapter: it's slightly AU from the story told in Awakening, so if you're a stickler for that kind of thing, well, tough luck.]

Chapter Eleven:

Blackmarsh Nightmare

The heat of the summer was at its most fierce when the mage school was completed. The dwarves had worked tirelessly in spite of the heat—though after visiting the Deep Roads, Sarai thought she could understand why. Even the searing heat of the sun couldn't compare to lava flowing inches below one's feet.

Voldrik had followed Sarai's original plans while including a few additions of his own. He had constructed a bell tower rising out of the center of the building, giving it an impressive outline against the hills. The center courtyard was flanked on three sides by the school itself, but Voldrik had used dwarven metalcraft to create a beautiful wrought iron gate across the fourth side. The tips of the fence curved wickedly towards the outside, and Sarai surveyed this defensive measure with approval. In the event of an attack, the gates could be bolted and would slow down anyone seeking to harm the mages inside.

As the school neared its completion, Sarai and Anders, helped by Wynne, Bethany, and Kristine, had found several other young mages. One girl, the youngest of a large family, had left her parents in tears—but she was consoled by their promises to visit her, or bring her home when she had a break from her studies. Another boy, barely a teenager, had also fled the Circle Tower when it fell; he seemed relieved when Wynne discovered him stealing bread from a trade caravan and brought him back to the farmhouse.

Not all of the stories were happy ones to retell, however. Bethany had gone to find another young mage whose powers had recently manifested. His father had locked him in the cellar. When Bethany offered the parents the chance to see their son again, his mother had sworn and spat, "Take him away, lock him up! We never want to see him again."

Now, at long last, the school was complete, and Lenora could finally have her kitchen to herself again. The young mages pushed eagerly past the gates to explore their new home. Wynne and Bethany followed at a more sedate pace to ensure that the children did not destroy anything.

Varric, having seen the construction to completion, said a temporary farewell to his companions. "I've got to get back to the business, Hawke," he told her. "Do you have any idea how many of those blasted merchant's guild meetings I've missed? They're ready to swear off House Tethras for good. I'll pass through here again before long, don't you worry."

Sarai and Anders waved as Varric went over the hill and out of sight. Then she turned to him and said, "Well, do you want to see your new home?"

"Gladly," he replied. Hand in hand, they walked into the mage school. Sarai led him up the curving staircase to the second floor, then down the hallway to the sleeping quarters. They had chosen the room on the corner, overlooking the courtyard and the gates, so that they could keep watch against any unwanted visitors. The room was not large, but there was space enough for a double bed, writing desk, two comfortable chairs, and a bookshelf.

With a satisfied sigh, Sarai sank onto the bed. Reaching out a hand to Anders, she pulled him down beside her. "You know," she murmured, "We haven't had a room to ourselves in quite a while." It was true. As more and more mages arrived to wait for the completion of the school, Lenora had been forced to set up extra cots in every part of the farmhouse.

"Hmm, fascinating," Anders replied drily, but his eyes crinkled with amusement.

In one smooth movement, Sarai pushed Anders flat onto the bed and swung a leg over him. Straddling him, she said, "You know what else we haven't had in a while?"

"What's that?" he replied.

"Any time... just for the two of us."

With a fierce grin, Anders pulled Sarai down towards him for a kiss and a much delayed night together.

Some time later, they fell asleep wrapped in one another's arms. The moon rose high over the school, sending a shaft of light into their room. While Sarai slept peacefully beside him, Anders began to toss and turn. Blue light glowed from behind his closed eyelids, and his body became as taut as a bow. When he began to spasm, Sarai was jostled awake.

A burst of adrenaline chased away sleep from her mind. She gasped as she looked at Anders: only his shoulders and heels were touching the bed as he shook. His skin was criss-crossed with that familiar blue fire. Yet he still appeared to be asleep, his eyes tightly closed.

"Anders?" she cried, reaching out to touch his arm. The moment her fingers brushed his skin, her vision was overwhelmed by a flash of blue light. Then everything faded to black.

~—~

Sarai awoke in an unfamiliar landscape. She surged to her feet, looking wildly at trees and pools of water. Everything was bathed in a strange yellow light. She was no mage, but she had been to the Fade once before. When she rescued Feynriel, his dreamscape had been a strange imitation of the Gallows. Now, she found herself in some kind of swamp.

"Anders?" she called. She heard nothing, not even the sound of birds or insects. It was eerily quiet. "Justice? Where are you?"

A sound behind her caused her to spin around, reaching for her blades. She found herself looking at a little boy.

"Please messere, don't hurt me!" he cried, cowering in terror.

Warily, she lowered her hands. "I won't hurt you. You just startled me, that's all."

"What are you doing here?" the boy asked.

"I—well, I'm looking for my friend." She glanced around her, but saw no sign of Justice, or anyone else, for that matter.

"Maybe I can help you find him—if you help me, too?"

"What do you need help with?" she asks. The boy seemed frightened, glancing around, barely able to hold still.

"There's a wicked woman here," the boy said. "She used to rule over us in the Blackmarsh, but she's trapped us here in the Fade for ever so long. She's cruel and evil," he continued, eyes filling with tears.

"Where is this woman?" Sarai asked. "I will help free you, if I'm able."

Now the boy's face lit up with excitement. "Will you really? She's in the town, I'll show you! Come on!"

The boy darted off down a narrow trail, and Sarai hurried to keep up. Soon, she could see a small village protected by a wall. The boy led her over a bridge and through the gates. In the center of the town was a tower, and he took her directly to the courtyard outside it.

As she rounded the corner and entered the tower courtyard, she gasped. There, in the center of the open area, was Anders—though the blue glow reminded her that it was Justice who is in control while the mage was in the Fade. He appeared to be held in a magical cage, his wrists and ankles shackled. His eyes were squeezed shut, and he seemed to be in pain.

She resisted the urge to rush forward—_Always know the battlefield before you enter it_—but she couldn't help but cry out. "Justice!"

He seemed to hear her. His eyes opened, glowing blue with power, and he turned his face towards her. "Sarai. You should not be here."

"What's happening? Who did this to you?"

"The witch, who calls herself the Baroness. I opposed her once, when I was only Justice. It was she who cast me out of the Fade. Now she has brought me—us—back again." He struggled against the magical chains, but could not free himself. "You must leave before she finds you here."

"No! I won't leave you here like this. I will save you!"

There was a low chuckle behind Sarai. For the second time, she spun around to see the little boy standing behind her. _That laugh couldn't have been him, could it?_ There was no one else in sight. The boy took a step forward, and another, and with every step his shape stretched and distorted, until he was towering over her, no longer a boy but a Pride demon. When he laughed again, it was a deep sound like thunder.

"Foolish mortal. So easy to manipulate. So easy to trap."

"You have done well, my pet," said another voice. Sarai turned to see a woman—the shape of a woman, anyway—stepping around Justice's prison, swaying her hips.

"Are you the Baroness?" Sarai demanded, drawing her blades.

The woman laughed. "I have been known by that name. Tell me, girl, do you believe your little knives can defeat me—and my Pride demon—single-handedly?"

"It wouldn't be the hardest fight I've won," Sarai responded harshly.

The woman laughed again, throwing back her head. In an instant, she brought her hands forward and threw a spell, too fast for Sarai to dodge. Immediately, Sarai was wracked with pain and unable to move. She couldn't even cry out.

Moving her hands as though she were manipulating a puppet on a string, the witch used her power to force Sarai back, against the wall of the courtyard. Sarai felt her hands being lifted above her head, where invisible manacles chained her in place.

"Stop, witch!" Justice's forceful voice cut through the pain still clouding Sarai's mind.

The Baroness turned her attention back to Justice. Sarai felt the pain abate slightly, though she was still unable to move.

"Justice, Justice, Justice," she crooned, walking back over to him. "Always getting in my way. Always interrupting. I thought I had seen the last of you." She backhanded him viciously. "Yet here you are again. Tell me, where did you get this—" she looked him over with evident distaste— "ragged old form?"

Justice ignored the question. "You persist in evil, witch, and you will be punished. I should have defeated you when I had the chance."

She pouted. "You never were any fun." Then she stepped even closer to Justice, running a hand down his stubbled cheek. "Maybe your companion will be more entertaining."

"No," he snarled, his blue fire flashing brighter.

The Baroness took a step backward and cocked her head with interest. "Oh? Is that defensiveness I hear in your voice, Justice? Or perhaps—passion?" She looked over at Sarai, who gritted her teeth against the new surge of pain. "This little diversion just became much more interesting. I wasn't aware Fade spirits could fall in love. I have to say," she remarked lightly, turning her attention back to Justice, "I question your taste. She seems entirely unremarkable."

Justice stared coldly ahead. The Baroness shrugged. "Well, if you won't play along, let's see if your little mortal friend has anything to say."

She turned back to Sarai, striding across the courtyard to her. "Tell me, mortal, how do you come to know a spirit of Justice?"

Sarai felt the spell surrounding her diminish slightly, enough for her to speak. "I have nothing to say to you."

The Baroness shook her head as though she were addressing an unruly child. "Oh, my dear girl, you will have plenty to say soon enough." She gestured sharply, and Sarai screamed in agony. The pain went on and on, until Sarai's throat closed up and she slumped forward in exhaustion.

"Now, mortal, answer my question: how do you know Justice?" Sarai said nothing. The Baroness made a little noise of irritation. "You met him after I cast him out of the Fade, yes?" Sarai nodded weakly. "Tell me, how did he acquire his present form? And how did he come to love a mortal woman?" She stopped herself, turning to look at Justice again. "Wait a moment. That form... a mage's form..."

Once again, the Baroness threw back her head in malevolent laughter. "Justice! _You_ possessed a mortal mage? I never imagined that stuffy Justice would stoop to the tricks of a demon."

"You shut your mouth," Sarai hissed. "You know _nothing_."

"Oh, my, this is just too much. Justice, the spirit of a thousand rules, possessing a mortal mage in order to preserve his own existence. And you, girl, did you love the mage before he was possessed, or were you foolish enough to befriend an abomination?" The Baroness paused. "You know, it doesn't really matter. It's enough to know that even Justice incarnate would compromise his principles."

Sarai struggled against her magical restraints. "How dare you—"

"Silence!" Justice snapped. "Do not speak to the witch. She seeks only to manipulate you."

The Baroness turned her attention to Justice once again. "You're right, of course. The two of you are simply delightful. I'm going to enjoy playing with you for quite some time. And when you cease to entertain me, well, my pet demon is always interested in a snack." She leaned in, pressing her lips against Justice's ear. "I'm going to enjoy killing you, Justice. But before I do, I'm going to enjoy making you watch when I kill her."

~—~


	12. Love and Justice

Chapter Twelve:

Love and Justice

"Sarai? Are you planning on coming down for breakfast?" Hearing no response, Bethany frowned and knocked on the door. "Sarai? Anders? I don't want to come in there if you're indecent."

There was silence from behind the door. Bethany's frown deepened, and she opened the door a crack. "I'm being serious, sister, if you're not dressed, you'd better say so." She peered around the door.

A moment later, Bethany was racing across the mage school towards the kitchen. "Wynne!" she yelled as she ran. "Wynne! Something's wrong!"

"What's the matter, child? Tell me what has happened." Wynne stepped around the large table where several mage children were having their breakfast.

"I went to wake up Sarai and Anders, and something has happened to them. They're shaking—I don't know how to describe it—"

Wynne took Bethany's arm and started towards the stairs. "That doesn't sound good, does it? Give me your arm, this old body can't move as fast as it used to."

The two women hurried up the stairs as quickly as Wynne could manage. They made their way to the end of the hall and pushed open the door to the room Anders and Sarai shared. Anders was lying on his back, his whole body tense. Blue fire flickered across his frame and behind his closed eyelids. Next to him, Sarai was on her side, curled up, with one hand outstretched toward Anders. There was a look of distress written on her features. Both were shaking perceptibly.

Bethany reached out to shake Sarai's shoulder, but Wynne pushed her hand away. "Don't," the older mage advised. "It looks like they are trapped in the Fade, does it not?"

Bethany considered the scene. "Well, yes. . . But Sarai is no mage. How could she enter the Fade?"

"It is possible, although in this case I believe it was accidental. You see her hand?" Wynne pointed to Sarai's outstretched arm. "I think that she touched Anders, and his power drew her into the Fade."

Bethany let out a sigh of irritation. "This is all Justice's fault, isn't it?"

"I wouldn't be so quick to jump to that conclusion," Wynne said, looking seriously at the younger woman. "But you seem angry. Why blame Justice?"

"My father taught me to control my powers. He always told me that I must never strike an agreement with a demon. That I should be wary of everything I met in the Fade. I don't know how Anders could be so foolish, even if Justice is a Fade Spirit rather than a demon."

"It's not always that simple, you know," Wynne replied. "Sometimes, one doesn't have a choice. And Anders isn't the only one whose life has been touched by a Fade Spirit." Bethany glanced at Wynne in surprise, but Wynne ignored the look. "In any case, they are trapped in the Fade. I'm not sure how we can help them."

"But they could be in danger! We have to do something! We could—go into the Fade ourselves."

"We could, if we had a stockpile of lyrium." Wynne replied. "I suppose this is one of the disadvantages of breaking free from the Circle. For the time being, I believe all we can do is wait and watch."

At that moment, Sarai gave a low moan of pain. Bethany gave Wynne a panicked look.

"I'm sorry, child, but I don't know what we can do. We will stay and see if anything changes."

~—~

Sarai tried to ignore the groans coming from the man she loved. Time was slippery in the Fade, but it seemed as though the Baroness had been torturing him for hours. _If this goes on much longer, I may lose my mind_, she thought desperately. Of course, that was just what the Baroness was hoping would happen.

At first, Sarai had shouted threats and insults, trying to taunt the witch and draw her away from Justice. But it had only served to amuse the Baroness; and the more amused she became, the more brutally she attacked Justice with her magic. Justice, for his part, had remained stoically silent for as long as he could, but the torture was breaking him down.

As Sarai ground her teeth to try to drown out the sounds that filled the courtyard, she noticed a bright golden light rising over the wall. The light seemed to take shape as it moved, and soon Sarai saw the figure of a woman in a flowing robe walking across the courtyard. _This is an illusion,_ she thought,_ or a hallucination. I am losing my mind after all._

"_Sarai Hawke."_ The voice was soft and melodic.

_What is happening? No, this is not real._

"_Sarai, I am real. I am a Fade Spirit."_

_Like Justice?_

"_Like Justice, yes. But I am a Spirit of Love."_

_Can you hear my thoughts?_

"_Yes. You do not need to speak aloud in the Fade."_

Sarai glanced towards Justice and the Baroness. The witch continued her brutality, apparently unable to see the glowing Spirit. _Why hasn't the Baroness noticed you?_

"_She is blinded by hate. She cannot perceive me."_

_What are you doing here?_

"_I am here to help you, Sarai. To lend you my strength." _

Sarai took a sharp breath. _What do you mean? A joining, like Anders and Justice?_

"_No. The choice that Justice made was only possible in your mortal world. And I have no desire to take on a mortal form. I will free you from your bonds and lend you my strength so that you can defeat the Baroness."_

_Why?_

"_I have known you for quite some time, Sarai. Spirits, like demons, can watch the lives of mortals. But unlike demons, we do not seek to manipulate and control. Instead, we are drawn to those who most reflect the values we represent."_

_You . . . watched me?_

"_You might say I watched over you. I have done so for many of your years."_

Sarai frowned at the glowing female image. _I don't understand. Why would you watch over me?_

"_Because you have always loved deeply, Sarai. As did your father, who was willing to do anything for love of his wife, his family. He passed that love on to you. Now, enough of speaking. Do you not wish to put a stop to this?"_

_Maker, yes. I gladly accept your help._

With a smile, the spirit reached forward. Sarai felt the spells entangling her vanish. She grasped her blades eagerly, ready for battle. _"Be of good heart, Sarai,"_ said Love, leaning forward to leave a kiss on the rogue's forehead.

Sarai felt an overwhelming energy surging through her. Golden fire broke out across her body, a perfect reflection of Justice's blue fire. Baring her teeth in a fierce grin, Sarai raced forward.

~—~

"What's happening now?" Bethany said, jumping to her feet from the chair where she had been keeping watch.

Sarai had begun to glow with a warm golden fire. It shone out from behind her closed eyelids. She stopped shaking, and the corners of her mouth curved up in a hint of a smile.

"I'm not certain. Whatever has happened," said Wynne, "I would say it is a good thing for your sister and Anders."

~—~

Sarai flanked the Pride demon, which had remained patiently in the courtyard all along. Skirting around behind the demon, she dragged both blades across the backs of its knees. With a roar, the demon staggered forward. Without hesitating, Sarai charged up the demon's back, using her blades as handholds. When she reached its shoulders, she drove both weapons into the base of its skull. It roared again.

The Baroness whipped around at the first sound of conflict. "What? No! How could you have escaped?" Immediately, a spell flew through the air towards Sarai.

Before Sarai could dodge, the spell rebounded against a golden shield that suddenly appeared around her. Both women were momentarily startled. Then the Pride demon shook itself in an attempt to throw Sarai off. She grabbed for one of its horns, stabbing at its eyes with her free hand.

"I don't know how you managed this," the Baroness hissed, "But I assure you, your little rebellion ends here!" She spun on her heel and prepared to level a spell at Justice, who was still imprisoned. "I will put an end to both of you!"

Sarai saw, as if time were slowing down, that the Baroness would kill Justice. _No. You will not. You cannot._ Ignoring the Pride demon, who still thrashed beneath her with brutal force, she leapt towards the Baroness. Even the speed of a well-trained rogue would not close the distance in time, she realized. Offering up a silent prayer to Andraste and the Spirit who was watching over her, she threw her blade.

The weapon flew straight, brimming with golden fire. It struck the Baroness in the neck, and blackish blood poured out of her. Sarai covered the rest of the courtyard, grabbed a dagger from her boot, and drove it into the witch's heart.

With a inhuman shout, everything vanished. The courtyard, the tower, the village, the demon. Sarai looked around, and found that she was in a flat, featureless plain. The golden light had faded from her skin. In front of her, Justice had crumpled to the ground. She knelt beside him.

"Justice?"

The glowing blue eyes opened. He sat up and looked around. "The Baroness. You killed her?"

"Maker, I hope so. She seems to be gone."

He turned to look at her sharply. "How? Even I could not break free of her spells."

"A Fade Spirit helped me. She broke the Baroness' spell and gave me her power."

"What Spirit?"

"Love," Sarai said, still finding it hard to believe herself.

Justice pushed himself to his feet, turning slightly away.

"What?" Sarai said, feeling a twinge of frustration. "Did I do something wrong? Would you rather I had left us both to die?"

Justice glanced at her, seeming uncomfortable. "Love is . . . not an ideal I have found easy to understand."

"The Baroness—" Sarai hesitated, but pressed onward. "She thought that you loved me. That Justice loved me, not just Anders. Is that true?"

For several moments, the silence stretched between them. Finally, Justice spoke. "When I first entered the moral realm, I was inadvertently forced into the body of a recently deceased Warden named Kristoff." Anders had told Sarai this detail before, but she did not interrupt Justice's retelling. "He was gone, but there remained echos, whispers of his memories. His wife. He loved her." There was another long pause. "I was fascinated by this emotion, love. I had never experienced anything like it.

"When Anders and I joined, it was overwhelming. The memories of a mortal's life are very different from the experiences themselves. Anger, betrayal, fear—I felt them all for the first time. In the beginning, it was difficult for us to have any semblance of control. Gradually, I became familiar with the peaks and valleys of human emotions." Now Justice turned to face Sarai directly. "Then you came along. At first, I found you an irritant, taking us away from our work with your demands for maps, and then dragging us into the Deep Roads when the people of Kirkwall needed us. The more we came to know you, the more of a distraction you became. Anders was obsessed, he could think of nothing else. No matter how many times I drew our thoughts back to our work, he would lead them astray again."

Sarai felt a flush of embarrassment. She opened her mouth to speak, but forced herself to remain silent.

"I began to understand that I was experiencing Anders' love. It bore little resemblance to the flickers I had perceived in Kristoff's memories. I felt that love was a danger; it was causing Anders to ignore the injustices we were supposed to oppose. I could see no good that could come of it. Yet he would not be dissuaded.

"Though I disapproved of Anders' feelings, I did not dislike you. On the contrary. As time passed, I came to respect and admire you. I could see that you were also concerned for justice, you also cared about the mages' plight. And I have not forgotten than you prevented us from committing an unforgivable crime when we had lost control."

Sarai nodded, remembering the fear in the mage girl's eyes when Anders had nearly killed her.

"You have even taught me something about justice—or reminded me of what I had forgotten—with this school you have built. I was not expecting to learn such a lesson from you." Justice looked away. "You have often gone against my expectations. I am . . . grateful for that."

A slow smile spread across Sarai's face. "Thank you, Justice."

"I am sorry, I did not answer the question you asked. When the Baroness threatened you, I felt that—that I did not wish to lose you. Perhaps I took on that sentiment from Anders."

They regarded each other in silence for some time. Finally, Sarai said, "Justice, I want to ask you something else."

"You may ask me anything you wish."

"Was the idea to destroy the Chantry yours? Or was it Anders'?"

He shook his head. "It is not so simple. Anders and I are one. You cannot ascribe a thought, a feeling, an idea, to only one of us. We saw that the mages in Kirkwall would never have justice as long as the Grand Cleric preserved the peace between Meredith and Orsino, and as long as the Chantry gave legitimacy to the Gallows. So we decided that the destruction of the Chantry was the only solution."

Sarai nodded; the answer was the one she had expected. Justice's next words were not.

"But if you wish to know why we lied to you about our plan, I believe that was my doing. I thought you would try to stop us. Anders did not wish to keep anything from you."

Surprised, Sarai drew her brows together. "I think—that doesn't change anything. After all, you and Anders are one. I would not want to separate you."

Now Justice inclined his head in understanding. There was a flash of light, and Love appeared next to them.

"_Are you ready to return to your world? I have the power to send you."_

"Yes," Sarai said. "We are ready." She looked at the spirit. "Thank you."

"_You are welcome. Stay strong and go well."_

The Fade dissolved around them as they were overwhelmed by a bright light.

~—~


	13. Life in the Mage School

[**Author's Note**: This chapter is a collection of short-ish vignettes. One of the things I wanted to do with this story was to examine different aspects of Hawke and Anders' relationship, looking and how they learned and grew, instead of leaving it at "happily ever after." I hope you're not tired of reading it! There will be some more action soon.]

~—~

Chapter Thirteen:

Life in the Mage School

With a gasp, Sarai awoke. Next to her, Anders sat bolt upright. Frantically, they searched for one another's eyes. Sarai breathed a sigh of relief.

"Sarai!" Bethany cried, hurrying over to her sister. "You're all right! Thank the Maker. What happened?"

"I—I'm not entirely sure. Anders?"

Anders frowned slightly. "I know we were in the Fade. But when I sleep, it's Justice who walks the Fade. I can only remember bits and pieces of what happened."

"I woke up in the middle of the night and you were glowing. I could tell something was wrong, so I reached out to try to wake you. The next thing I knew, I was in the Fade myself."

"You were trapped there," Wynne said. "Though by what—or why—I cannot imagine."

"The Baroness," Sarai confirmed. "There was an evil woman named the Baroness, she trapped us there. She threatened to kill us."

"I remember now," Anders said. "Andraste's tits, I thought I had seen the last of that witch."

"You knew her?" Wynne asked in surprise.

"From when I was with the Wardens. I was with the Warden Commander and we were unwittingly dragged into the Fade. The Baroness had been a human woman who was still torturing her former subjects in the Fade. That was where—" Anders stopped suddenly.

"Where you met Justice?" Wynne guessed.

Sarai looked to Anders for his answer. He nodded. "Yes. Justice was there, trying to stop her. We offered to help him, but before we could, she cast the lot of us back out of the Fade."

"I guess she finally got what was coming to her," said Sarai harshly. "Void take her."

"Well, I'm just glad you're all right, sister. You had me worried." Bethany gave a smile of relief.

"And now, we ought to check on the little mages. I'm sure they finished breakfast some time ago." Wynne stood to leave, and Bethany followed her.

Sarai leaned against Anders. "Do you really not remember what happened?"

"I remember flashes. And what I do recall, I'd like to forget." He sighed as if to expel bad thoughts from his mind.

"It was horrific," Sarai agreed. "I don't envy you mages the Fade."

"There is something I remember," Anders murmured. "You and Justice had a conversation, didn't you?"

Sarai nodded quietly.

"And you told him—us—you said you wouldn't want to separate us."

She looked into his golden eyes. "I did."

"Did you mean it? I mean, after what happened, after what I said back in Kirkwall..."

"I meant it, Anders. I mean it. Back then," she sighed. "I thought that I loved Anders, and Justice was just—getting in the way. But I realized I love you, all of you, and that means I wouldn't choose only part of you even if I could."

His face broke into a smile, that smile that reached all the way up to crinkle up the corners of his eyes. That smile she loved. She couldn't help but smile back.

"Thank you," he said softly, and they kissed.

~—~

Life continued in the mage school, as days turned to weeks and weeks to months, and summer faded into the cool of fall. They found several more young mages to bring to the school. Before long, the mages were seeking out the school instead of the other way around.

On one crisp morning, the twenty or so students gathered in the classroom with Wynne, Anders, and Bethany. Sarai watched quietly from the doorway. The adult mages were still trying to develop a teaching method that would serve their varied group of students. At times, the older students, the ones who had studied at the Circle, would teach what they knew to the youngest mages. At other times, the students came together for lessons that Wynne judged were important for all of them. This morning, the subject was possession.

"What is the greatest danger a mage faces?" Wynne asked her pupils.

"Templars," guessed one mage.

"Monsters!" said one of the children.

"Demons," Kristine responded, and Wynne nodded.

"Kristine is right. Whenever a mage enters the Fade—whenever you go to sleep at night—you face the danger of demons who seek to possess you. They will manipulate you, try to use your greatest fears and hopes in order to control you. No matter what they offer, involvement with demons can only lead to destruction."

Some of the younger mages looked frightened. A few of the older ones were defiant. One, a teenage boy named Robert who had escaped from the Circle, spoke up. "But demons have power! We mages need all the help we can get, with Templars and everyone else wanting us dead. Why shouldn't we use a demon's power, if we can?"

Wynne's response was stern. "Because, Robert, if you make a deal with a demon, you—your identity, your future, all your potential—will be lost forever. The demon is all that will remain, using your physical form to further its own ends. Believe me, a demon has no interest in helping mages fight Templars or anyone else. To a demon, you are just an entrance into the mortal world."

"What about him?" Robert demanded, pointing an accusatory finger at Anders. "He's possessed, and it's thanks to him that the Circle was destroyed. Why should he get all that power, and not us?"

Sarai stiffened, feeling the familiar defensiveness that came whenever anyone accused Anders of being an abomination. Anders' reaction, however, far outpaced her own. From where he had been leaning against the wall, looking somewhat bored, he suddenly stood bolt upright. He slammed his staff into the ground, startling all the children. He strode towards Robert, radiating anger.

Bethany jumped in before Anders could start to yell. The younger mages' eyes were already brimming with tears. "I think the magelings need a break." She held out her hands for them. "Who wants a snack?"

The younger mages scrambled to their feet and followed Bethany like ducklings as she led them out of the room. When she passed Anders, she muttered, "Now you can teach him his lesson."

Still trembling with anger, Anders stood over Robert. "You're a fool," he snapped. "You have no idea what demons are capable of. I have. I know a mage, an elf, who made a deal with a demon, and she lost everything—the person she cared most about in the world, dead; her own people rejected her; everything she hoped for, lost. She was lucky not to lose her life. Most mages do."

"Before you came to the Circle Tower, Robert," Wynne added, "Mages there dealt with demons, and nearly half of the mages in the Tower died. The only reason the Templars didn't kill us all was because the Hero of Ferelden stepped in and killed the demons herself."

Anders nodded sharply. "As for me, I have accepted no offer from a demon. Whatever you've heard, I am not an abomination. But it doesn't matter: even if you could merge with a Fade Spirit, as I did, you'd be a fool to do so. You have no idea what the repercussions could be." His tone became softer. "I had no idea. I made mistakes, and I've had to live with them. If you've any sense at all, you won't make the mistakes I made."

Robert looked chastened, but he was unwilling to give up. "If a Templar was trying to kill me, I would take all the power I could get. Same as they do."

"If you do, you're just as weak and self-serving as they are. Worse, because your actions could kill those you care about most. If you come up against a Templar, you'll use your gifts to defend yourself, not make yourself a gateway to an even greater evil." Anders' eyes flashed over the group of teenaged mages. "It is your responsibility to use your powers wisely, and that means you must always be on alert against demons. Do you understand?"

They nodded. Even Robert inclined his head reluctantly.

"Good," said Wynne. "I'm sorry we have to be sharp with you, but these are vital lessons, and your time is short to learn them. I think we've had enough for this morning. Be back here promptly after lunch for a lesson on casting glyphs."

~—~

Before long, the Ferelden landscape sparkled with frost, and snow blew around the courtyard of the school. Sarai, Wynne, Bethany, and Anders sat at one of the long dining tables, watching the mages play outside with Behemot, enjoying a free day.

"I can't believe it's been a year," Bethany murmured.

"A year since what?" Sarai replied.

"Surely you haven't forgotten, sister? A year since the Kirkwall Chantry... well, you know."

"A year?" Anders said, surprised. "Has it really been that long?"

"I can't believe you didn't know."

"So much has happened. I guess the time just got away from us," Sarai said.

"It reminds me of an old poem," Wynne remarked. "'And thus in many yesterdays the year passes, and winter comes back again as the world would have it, in the way of things.' When you've seen as many years pass by as I have, it won't surprise you so much."

"May the next year be better than the last," Bethany said, raising her mug in a casual toast.

"I don't know," Sarai smiled, "this past year has been a good one, all things considered. Look what we've managed to accomplish."

"We've been lucky," said Anders. "I hope we continue to be so lucky."

"And I hope you build on your successes so far," Wynne added. "There is much still to be done."

"Oh?" asked Sarai. "You have something in mind?"

"Well, to begin with, you've a library full of empty shelves upstairs. There are far more mages seeking refuge than you have found so far. And at some point, you will begin attracting attention from those who hold power."

Sarai laughed. "Wynne, I see you have your own ambitions for our little school."

"Perhaps," Wynne answered with a smile. "Or perhaps I just miss my books back at the Circle Tower."

"Do you suppose you could go back for them?" Bethany asked. "I mean, when everyone cleared out of the Tower, they left everything behind. The books might still be there."

"They might be, child. It would be worthwhile to look, in any case."

"It's probably still crawling with Templars," Anders remarked.

"Do you think it's too dangerous to go?" Sarai asked him.

"No, I think I haven't killed any Templars in months," he answered with a wicked smile.

Wynne shook her head. "You are bloodthirsty, Anders. If you go to find my books, I pray you do not encounter any Templars."

~—~

Another winter day found Sarai hurrying up the stairs in the mage school. "Anders! Anders, I have a surprise for you!" Sarai pushed open the door to their room with her elbow, since both hands were full with a burlap bundle.

Anders was sitting in one of the chairs, his whole body wrapped around a steaming mug. "Let me guess. You've finally figured out how to heat these corner rooms."

"Better!" she answered cheerfully.

"Better than heated rooms?" he said skeptically. "You'll have to prove it."

"Lenora just stopped by with some supplies she picked up in Wheat's End for us. But she also brought these." Sarai set down the bundle she had been holding on the bed and folded back the rough fabric to reveal two kittens. One was orange, the other piebald white-and-brown. They immediately began to mew piteously to protest the cold air.

"Kittens?" Anders cried, jumping up from his chair and shedding the blanket that had been wrapped around his shoulders. "You brought me kittens!"

Sarai grinned. "I knew you'd like them. Lenora thought they'd be good mousers around the school, especially in the pantry. But I figured you'd like to name them."

Anders picked up the nearest kitten, the piebald, to determine its gender. "A girl. This one will be Lady Pounce-a-lot, in honor of poor Ser Pounce-a-lot." Without setting down Lady Pounce-a-lot, the scooped up the orange kitten with his other hand. "And this boy will be... Pumpkin."

"Pumpkin?" Sarai asked. "What, he doesn't deserve a title?"

"Bann Pumpkin the Fierce, then," Anders agreed. "How do you like that, ser?" he asked the kitten, who mewed loudly in response.

Anders sat down on the bed, putting both kittens in his lap. He beamed at them as they searched for the warmest spots in his robes. Sarai sat next to him, blissfully content.

After watching him play with the kittens for several minutes, she suddenly felt an urge to ask a question. "Anders," she said, "how would you like to get married?"

He looked at her in surprise. "Married? Are you being serious?"

"Of course I am," she replied, surprised by his reaction. "Why would you think I wasn't?"

He snorted derisively. "Can you imagine our wedding? What, you and I standing up in the Chantry so the Revered Mother can give a blessing to our relationship? You don't find that idea ridiculous?"

"That's not what I meant," she protested. "There are other marriage rituals besides the Chantry's. Dwarves get married. So do elves. Merrill could perform a Dalish ceremony for us."

He laughed, but not kindly. "So now Merrill's going to marry us out in the woods. My best man could be a tree—or one of the halla!"

"Forget I said anything," Sarai replied, irritated. She stood up to leave. "Have fun with your kittens."

"Sarai, wait—I didn't mean to upset you!" Anders called after her, but received no answer. He groaned. "Well, I messed that up royally," he told the kittens. They ignored him.

~—~

[**Author's Note**: The lines Wynne quotes in this chapter are from a real poem called "Gawain and the Green Knight." I love that description of the cycle of seasons, so I had to use it.]


	14. The Grey Wardens

[**Author's Note**: A new chapter! Featuring everybody's favorite snarky blond Warden...

Update: Edited to fix some spelling issues. Thanks to emilymarie0201 for pointing out that it's Grey Warden, not Gray Warden.]

~—~

Chapter Fourteen:

The Grey Wardens

"Sarai, Varric's just arrived!" Bethany called up the stairs. To the dwarf, she said, "Make yourself at home, of course. Do you need anything?"

"Yeah, a hot fireplace. And a tankard of beer, if you've got it. Andraste's ass, it's cold out there."

Bethany laughed. "The fireplace in the kitchen is the warmest place in the school. But I'm afraid I don't have any beer to offer you."

Varric made his way into the kitchen, where a few of the mage students regarded him with some suspicion. A moment later, Sarai fairly skipped into the room. "Varric!" she cried, throwing her arms around the dwarf. "What brings you back?"

"Business, as always," he replied. "But of course I wanted to see you."

"I'm flattered," she said with a smile.

Varric gestured expansively. "I love what you've done with the place, Hawke. Plenty of future revolutionaries around here."

"Plenty of future not-dead and not-Tranquil mages. That's the goal."

The two sat at the food preparation table. Varric brushed some stray potato skins out of the way. "So you're well, then, Hawke? No trouble? No unwanted visitors?"

"Everything has been fine," Sarai assured him. She narrowed her eyes. "But I can tell you're not just here on business. What's going on?"

Varric sighed. "You're right, Hawke. I'm not just here on business. I'm here with a warning."

"So tell me," she urged the dwarf.

"Let me start at the beginning. I was in Kirkwall, checking up on Bartrand and trying to placate the Merchant's Guild. Everything had been going swimmingly—business was good, Kirkwall wasn't a complete war zone, and I hadn't heard any disturbing rumors about Templars in a while. So I was feeling pretty good, all things considered."

Sarai rolled her eyes as Varric settled into his storytelling rhythm. She knew from experience that there was no hurrying him.

"In any case, I started to notice I was being watched. Now, that's not too unusual—a dwarf with a purse as full as mine, and chest hair like this," he gestured, "is bound to attract attention. But I had a bad feeling.

"Sure enough, that very night, I'm jumped by a bunch of black-clad rogues. They took Bianca from me, if you can believe it. My Bianca! Then they hustled me into your old mansion and dumped me unceremoniously in a chair. A woman came in, a Seeker of the Chantry by the name of Cassandra Pentaghast, to interrogate me. Wouldn't take any less than the whole story."

"The whole story?"

"About you, Hawke. She wanted to know about the Champion of Kirkwall. And I'll tell you, she had some pretty interesting ideas about you. Seemed to think you had masterminded the Chantry explosion and mage rebellion from the very beginning."

"Then the Chantry is looking for me. For us," Sarai murmured. "Maker, Varric, what did you tell her?"

"As little as I could, considering she had her sword at my throat most of the time. I told her the story of the Champion of Kirkwall, and disabused her of some of her more absurd presuppositions."

Sarai stood abruptly and began pacing the room. "Andraste's ass, are they coming here?"

"Hawke, do you think I'm an idiot? I didn't tell her where you were. I wouldn't even tell her if you were alive or dead."

"Don't you think you should be a little more concerned about this, Varric?" she snapped.

"I came straight here to warn you—covering my tracks, of course—as soon as they let me go."

Sarai sighed. "I know. I'm sorry."

"I'm the one who should be apologizing. I was careless to let them catch me."

"What do you think this woman wants?"

Now Varric sighed. "Honestly? It's hard to say. At first, I thought she just wanted to track you down and kill you. But the more questions she asked... it sounded like the Seekers want you to make peace with the Templars. She seemed to think you were the only one the Templars would listen to."

"Not the Templars I've met," Sarai snorted. "And I don't care to meet any new ones if I don't have to."

"You may not have a choice, Hawke. Opening a school for mages is hardly keeping a low profile. Even if they hadn't gotten a hold of me in Kirkwall, they'll figure out you're here eventually."

"I know that. We'll be ready for them when they come." She slapped the dwarf on the back. "Thanks for the warning, Varric. I appreciate it."

~—~

Anders was never a heavy sleeper. For as long as he could remember, the fear of being woken by Templars in the middle of the night had disturbed his sleep in the Circle Tower. When they did finally drag him from bed for his Harrowing, the restlessness did not abate, though it became more tinged with anger than with fear. Whenever he managed to escape from the Tower, the driving desperation to avoid recapture had kept him up night after night, stumbling across rough terrain.

After he merged with Justice and fled the Wardens, peaceful sleep continued to elude him. It could have been the patients waking him up in the middle of the night, or his feverish efforts to write his manifesto, or the fearful cowering in the darkness because of a Templar sweep through Darktown. Whatever the reason, Anders did not sleep in more than catnaps. And life-long habits die hard.

Many nights, he lay dozing with his arms around Sarai. Sometimes, his nervous energy became too much, and he would sit in one of the chairs, watching her sleep or tracking the slow movements of the stars across the sky.

One night, just as the faintest light of dawn began to appear on the horizon, Anders saw movement out of the corner of his eye. Immediately, he moved to the window, scanning the courtyard. The gates were closed for the night, but Anders could clearly see a figure outside them. Whoever the person was, he—or she?—was heavily armored. Anders could make out a shield and sword strapped to the figure's back.

"Sarai," he hissed. From the foot of the bed, Behemot whined.

She woke immediately, looking for him with concern. "What's wrong?" Without waiting for an answer, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and began to dress.

"There's someone down there," Anders said quietly, gesturing at the window. "Armed."

"Not a mage?"

Anders glanced down again. "Definitely not."

Arming herself, Sarai gave a quick nod. The two stepped quietly into the hallway and hurried downstairs. Behemot padded softly along behind them.

Sarai strode into the courtyard confidently, flanked by Anders and her Mabari. The figure, who had been examining the lock on the gates, straightened up. In the pre-dawn light, they could see a griffon on his armor.

"Shit," Anders whispered, stopping suddenly. "_Shit_."

Sarai didn't take her eyes off the man, but she stopped as well. "Anders, what's wrong?"

"Grey Warden," he hissed. "Grey. Warden. I swear to Andraste, I am not going back there."

"You won't," she promised. Then Sarai took a deep breath and approached the gate. "Who are you, and what do you want?"

"Listen, I'm sorry for showing up at such an odd hour. I hope I'm not bothering you." The voice behind the helmet was surprisingly bright. "I've been wandering around the Bannorn all night, freezing my ass off."

"Who are you," Sarai repeated slowly, "And what do you want?"

"Well, could you start with opening these gates? And then maybe we could sit down and talk, instead of me standing out here in the cold?"

"I don't let anyone inside these gates unless I know they're not a threat. So you can stay out there until you tell me your name and why you're here."

The man held up his hands placatingly. "All right, fine, I get it. But I'm not a complete stranger. We've met once before."

"Your _name_," Sarai snapped.

He lifted his helmet, revealing a round, cleanshaven face. "Alistair. And as you've already figured out, I'm a Grey Warden. We met in Kirkwall, during the Qunari rebellion?"

"That was you?" Anders asked.

"In the flesh. Sorry I couldn't stay and help. Sounds like you sorted things out, though."

Sarai thought of the scars that still criss-crossed her body from the battle with the Arishok, and grimaced. "You were the Warden who gave me that amulet," she said.

"That's right! Good, you do remember. Now we can all sit around the fire like friends and warm up."

Anders shifted nervously. Sarai held up a hand. "Not so fast. You still haven't told us why you're here."

"You are a suspicious lot, aren't you? I'm not going to turn you into toads, you know. Not a mage," he added helpfully, tapping his chest plate.

"I'm not going back to the Wardens," Anders blurted. "So if that's why you're here, you can just go back to your blighted Weisshaupt and tell them I'm not interested."

"Ah, yes, you must be Anders. Here's what I don't get about you. If you hated being a Warden so much, why would you go through the Joining in the first place? It's kind of supposed to be a for-life job, you know."

"Because I was going to be executed by Templars!" Anders shouted. Even Sarai was surprised by the force of his reaction. He continued harshly, "And the Warden Commander, Void take her, offered me a way out. Little did I know it would turn out to be just as bad."

"Whoa, whoa, don't you talk about her that way." Alistair's tone was suddenly sharp as well.

Anders paused. "Wait a minute. Alistair. You're..." Realization dawned on his features. "You're _that_ Alistair? The one she went on and on about, and wrote awful love letters to?"

Alistair looked uncomfortable. "Er. Yes. I'm that Alistair. Grey Warden and... companion... to Rhiannon Aeducan."

"You mean lover," Sarai clarified.

A awkward blush spread across Alistair's face. "Yes, well, that's, er, that's another word you could use." He tried to regain control of the conversation. "Anyway, she's the reason I'm here. She sent me to find you—" but he was looking at Sarai, not Anders.

"Me? Why?" Sarai responded.

"Um, let's see, I don't know, maybe because you're the Champion of Kirkwall?"

"I used to be the Champion of Kirkwall. Not anymore."

Alistair snorted. "Let me tell you something about being a hero. You don't get to quit, even if you want to."

"I didn't quit," Sarai replied. "You could say I was fired. Turns out people don't look kindly on their Champion after she helps to destroy the Chantry and decimate the Templars."

"People still look to you," Alistair said. "Including the Grey Wardens." The sun was now over the horizon, and he squinted at it. "Now, do you think you could let me in? Pretty please? I promise I'm not going to haul off your apostate friend."

Anders bristled, but Sarai nodded and began to unlock the gate.

~—~

"So what do the Grey Wardens want with us?" Anders asked, still watching Alistair suspiciously. They had taken seats at one of the dining tables while mages and some of the parents working at the school hurried back and forth with breakfast.

"Well," Alistair began, then stopped, apparently deep in thought. Sarai and Anders exchanged a look.

"...Yes?" Sarai prompted.

"Er, yes. Well, you see, there's an official reason, and then there's... unofficial reasons."

"I don't think I understand," Sarai said.

"Rhiannon's not the Warden Commander anymore. She doesn't really have the authority to be sending me all over Ferelden on Warden business. On top of that, the Wardens back in Weisshaupt were pretty annoyed with us for meddling in national affairs—you know, putting Anora on the throne, executing Loghain, that sort of thing. So we have to tread carefully.

"Officially, I'm here because Wardens need mages, and we can't get them from the Circle of Magi anymore. When we got word that mages were gathering at a school in Ferelden—"

"Got word how?" Anders interrupted.

"It's not like you're keeping this place a secret," Alistair replied. "If I can continue...? Thank you. When we got word that there was a mage school, we decided someone needed to come take a look. Rhiannon nominated me because she had her own interests in the situation."

"What interests?" Sarai asked.

"She wanted to know if Anders here was doing well—though I can't imagine _why_. But mostly she was interested in you. She's the Hero of Ferelden, you're the hero of Kirkwall, the two of you have all kinds of... hero-y... things in common. Or something. She explained it all to me before I left."

Just as Sarai was trying to decide how to respond to this, Wynne entered the room, talking to Varric. She stopped abruptly. "Alistair? By the Maker, Alistair, is that you?"

"Wynne? I didn't realize my favorite healer who likes to stick her nose in other people's business was in on this little project," Alistair quipped, but he embraced the mage fondly.

"You're here on Grey Warden business, I assume?" Wynne said as she and Varric sat.

"Always," Alistair said with a smile.

Anders rolled his eyes. "How can you be so enthusiastic about the Wardens? I mean, the order's all well and good when there's a Blight on, but honestly, what have they got going for them the rest of the time?"

"Oh, it's not so bad. I mean, sure, there's the secret rituals, the disturbing connection to the Darkspawn, the inevitable early death, but—"

"What?" Sarai said, her voice strained.

"What?" Alistair responded blankly.

"What was that part about an inevitable early death?"

Alistair looked at Anders in confusion. "You didn't tell her?"

Anders squirmed. "I don't like to talk about the Wardens."

"Didn't tell me what?" Sarai demanded. "Would someone please tell me what you're talking about?"

Alistair glanced at Anders again, but the mage kept his mouth shut. "All right then, I guess I'll tell you. Wardens are tainted by the Darkspawn. That's what allows us to sense them, and that's what allows us to kill the Archdemon. But there's also a downside."

"Yes, because those other parts aren't bad enough," Anders muttered.

"Eventually, the taint becomes too much. Most Wardens sense it, and that's when they go into the Deep Roads."

Sarai still didn't understand, but she felt a sense of dread in her chest as she asked, "Into the Deep Roads?"

Varric was the one who finally spoke. "To die, Hawke. They go into the Deep Roads to die."

Alistair nodded, a little sadly. "And take as many Darkspawn as possible down with us."

Anders slouched, not meeting Sarai's eyes. If he had, he would have seen them sparkling with tears. Sarai stood up quickly and went out into the courtyard.

"Are you honestly not going to follow her?" Alistair asked after a moment.

"I never asked to be made a Grey Warden," Anders said petulantly.

"And I never asked to be one of only two Wardens facing a Blight. But that's what being a Warden means. You learn to adjust." Alistair waited a little longer, then sighed. "If you're not going to talk to her, then I will."

Alistair rose, and Varric stood up as well, giving Anders a dark look. "I think I'll join you. Once we're done consoling Hawke, you can tell me all about the Hero of Ferelden."


	15. Laying Plans

[**Author's Note**: A shorter chapter this time, with more to come soon. Thanks for all the reviews!]

~—~

Chapter Fifteen:

Laying Plans

Varric and Alistair went out into the courtyard of the mage school, where Sarai was staring up at the gray winter sky.

"Care to talk about it?" Varric asked.

She gave a weak smile to her friend. "I know he doesn't like to talk about being a Warden. It was a bad time for him," she explained for Alistair's benefit. "Especially after the Commander left. I think he felt like she betrayed him, leaving him there."

"I doubt she had any idea how things would turn out," Alistair answered.

Sarai nodded. "But this taint... I had no idea. How long—" She stopped.

"No one knows, I'm sorry to say." Alistair said gently. "It's different for every Warden. Duncan, the Warden Commander when the Blight began, had been a Warden for decades and was still going strong. It was the treachery at Ostagar that killed him, not the taint."

"You've still got plenty of time, Hawke. Chin up."

"I wanted us to raise a family," she whispered, a few tears spilling down her cheeks. Varric put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Yeah, that may... not be possible," said Alistair.

"What does _that_ mean?" Sarai asked wearily.

"Wardens are strongly discouraged from having children. You know, total devotion to the order and all that. But even if they wanted to, the taint may be passed down to the children."

"May be? You're a Grey Warden, shouldn't you know whether it happens or not?"

"Well, the only occasion I've... ahem, encountered was... unique."

Varric let out a snort. "Andraste's ass, that was an evasive answer." The dwarf looked to Sarai. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm all right. Thanks for coming out to find me."

"Always. Now come back in out of the cold, okay?"

Sarai nodded, allowed herself one audible sniff to compose herself, and then reentered the school with Alistair and Varric.

~—~

Anders had disappeared. Sarai, Alistair, and Varric seated themselves again with Wynne.

The elderly mage make a tut-tut noise with her tongue. "Alistair, you look exhausted. You must have been traveling all night. Can I get you something to eat?"

"That depends. Is it as bad as the camp food we used to eat on the road?"

Ignoring his joke, Wynne stood. "I'll just get us all some breakfast."

Sarai looked Alistair over. "All right, let's get back to your business here. What do the Wardens want with our mage school?"

"Mostly, we want mages," Alistair said. "And since you and that feathered idiot made all the mages rebel, we're having a hard time finding them reliably."

"I'm not letting you take these mages against their will. They're still children, for Andraste's sake."

"Don't worry, we don't kidnap people. We offer the Joining; they can choose to say no."

"Right... unless the alternative is dying horribly," Varric interjected. "Not much of a choice then, is there? Warden, or death."

"Or becoming a full-blown Templar," Alistair agreed. "Which might be worse than dying horribly, I'm not sure."

"So what do you want, then? Just to give the mages a chance to join the Wardens?" Sarai asked. "You think any of them will take you up on that offer?"

"You'd be surprised. Wardens have recovered a lot of their former glory in the eyes of Fereldans since Maric let them back in. It's a life of honor and adventure and Darkspawn killing. If you're really lucky, you get to fight an Archdemon and save the world."

Sarai shook her head. "I wouldn't want to sign up... but I suppose there's no harm in letting you talk to them. I have to warn you, though, most of the students are far from being done with their studies."

"We'd like to set up some kind of ongoing agreement," Alistair said. "Come back every year or so, for recruits."

"If you want to make that journey, be my guest. But I wouldn't expect a lot of results—I don't want you to be unpleasantly surprised."

"I think _you'll_ be surprised. Outside of Tevinter, this school is now the only place for mages to study. In a year, you could have mages from all over Thedas here. And I bet some of them will want to join the Grey Wardens."

"Maybe so."

Wynne came back to the table, bearing a tray of fresh bread, eggs, and bacon. The corner of her sleeve was singed. "Sarai, your sister needs your help in the kitchen. There was something of a disaster involving flour and a fire spell."

"Oh," Sarai jumped to her feet. "Please excuse me."

"By all means," Alistair said. "But I should leave as soon as I eat. Rhiannon and the other Wardens will be waiting for your response. So for now, I'll bid you goodbye. I suspect we will meet again soon."

Sarai shook his hand. As she headed towards the kitchen, she heard Varric saying, "While we eat, why don't you tell me something about the Hero. She was the second child of House Aeducan, wasn't she? Framed for murder by her scheming brother... now that sounds like a story."

~—~

A few weeks after Alistair's visit to the school, the weather began to warm somewhat. One evening, after the younger mages had gone to bed, Sarai and her companions sat in comfortable chairs around the common room. They were planning.

"New mages keep finding us. We've already nearly filled up the rooms here in the school. Before long, we're going to have to expand," Sarai said.

"I'll contact Voldrik again, see if he's willing to do the building during the summer," offered Varric.

"While you're at it, you should really see about building some separate houses for the families here," Bethany urged. "They don't need to be living in dormitories like the students."

"That's a good idea, Bethany," said Sarai. "We'll talk to the parents and see what they would like."

"You have another problem," Wynne said. "We have two classrooms, three teachers—and I'm not getting any younger, don't forget—and no more than a handful of books in the library upstairs. I know I've said it before, but I must say it again: you need more resources if you want these mages to learn."

Anders spoke up. "Well, what about going to the Circle Tower for books, like Bethany said?"

"I don't know," Sarai said cautiously. "That seems like a lot of risk when we don't even know if the books are still here."

"No, I think we should," Anders said, a little too enthusiastically.

Sarai raised an eyebrow. "Is there something you're not telling me?"

"What? No. No. I told you before, if there are Templars hanging around the Tower for us to fight, that's just fine with me."

"We do need books, sister," Bethany said gently.

"Go for it, Hawke. You haven't had any proper adventures in months. As your official biographer, I'm telling you to go. Otherwise I'm going to run out of material... and I'll have to start writing a sequel to 'Hard in Hightown' just to keep myself occupied."

Sarai groaned. "Okay, okay, if it will keep you away from writing smut, I'll go." She turned to Anders. "I assume you're coming, too?"

"Of course. If there's Templars to kill, you know I'll come along."

"Bethany? Do you want to come?"

"No—" Anders said, then immediately cut himself off. Sarai gave him a quizzical look. "I mean, I just think it would be better if Bethany stays, so Wynne doesn't have to teach all the classes by herself."

"That is a good point," agreed Bethany. "Besides, I'm not that interested in tramping across Ferelden again—or killing Templars."

"Bianca and I will both stay here, just in case there's trouble while you're gone," Varric promised. "So there's absolutely no reason not to go. All right?"

"All right." Sarai grinned. "It will be nice to have a change of scenery."

~—~

"Psst."

Varric turned around at the foot of the stairs. The evening's conversation had worn on until everyone retired for the night. He had just been heading to bed himself when the whisper stopped him.

"Blondie? Is that you?"

The mage emerged from the shadows. "Varric," he whispered, "I need to talk to you."

"Didn't you go to bed already?"

"I came back downstairs after Sarai fell asleep. I need your help with something."

"Hang on a second. Are you sneaking around behind her back? You _do_ remember how that turned out last time, right?"

"I'm doing this for her, I swear."

"Are you an _idiot_?" Varric exclaimed. At Anders' frantic gesturing, he lowered his voice again. "All right, Blondie. You've got one chance to prove to me that you haven't lost your mind. Because I swear on Bianca's life, if you are lying to Hawke again, I'll kill you myself."

"I'm not lying to her. Not exactly." At Varric's fierce look, Anders continued hurriedly, "I want to surprise her. But I need your help to do it. Will you hear me out?"

Varric sighed. "Let's hear it, then. What's this surprise?"

As the rest of the mage school slept, Anders explained his plan and the help he needed from Varric. When he finished, he looked hopefully at the dwarf. "So will you do it?"

Varric chuckled. "I still think you're an idiot. But just seeing Hawke's face will be worth it. I'll make sure everything goes according to plan."

~—~


	16. The Circle Tower

[**Author's Note**: I have a big project I ought to be working on for school... so what am I doing? Writing for you all, of course! Enjoy.]

~—~

Chapter Sixteen:

The Circle Tower

Sarai was impatient. She always had been. Once she had a plan in place, she did not like to wait around. So once she had decided to go to Kinloch Hold, she wasted no time in setting out. Anders explained the route, Lenora packed up their supplies, and Bethany and Varric saw them off in the early morning light.

As soon as they were out of sight, Varric turned to Bethany and said, "We have a lot of work to do, Sunshine. Let me tell you what Blondie has in mind."

The journey was relatively uneventful. Sarai and Anders walked side by side, Behemot eagerly exploring the terrain around them.

"Feels like old times, doesn't it?" Sarai said, tilting back her head to enjoy the sun and fresh air.

"Old times?" Anders replied. "I'm sorry, are you referring to the times I was running a clinic out of that filthy pit people called Darktown, or the times we were desperately fighting for our lives? Or perhaps the times we were trapped underground with a Maker-cursed rock wraith?"

"Yes, those were the times I was thinking of," Sarai answered cheerfully.

"Oh, in that case... no, this does not feel like old times."

"Come on, Anders. We're on a mission! On the move, tracking down dusty mage books. It's a little bit exciting, isn't it?"

"I was never interested in the adventure," he shot back, but his tone was light. "When we were in Kirkwall, I had three goals: one, stay alive; two, justice for mages; three, making sure you stayed alive."

"In that order?" Sarai asked, teasing.

"The order was the part I could never sort out."

They traveled west and slightly north, avoiding villages and occupied farmsteads. They encountered a few farmers and merchants, but these seemed eager to keep away from a well-armored rogue and mage. They set an easy pace, and at the end of the week, they were standing on the shores of Lake Calenhad.

"Maker," Anders breathed as he surveyed the scene. The little buildings that had once marked the departure point of the ferry to the Tower were burned-out husks. Bodies were visible strewn around the shore. The ferry itself seemed to be destroyed.

Sarai stepped closer to Anders. "I take it... it didn't used to look this way."

"I haven't been here in over ten years, but... no. It didn't used to look this way." Anders shuddered at the sight of the Tower, remembering how it had looked over his shoulder each time he fled—and how it had looked when the Templars dragged him back again and again. His hand reached blindly for the woman he loved.

Sarai laced her fingers between his and squeezed. "Are you sure you want to do this?" she asked.

Anders nodded, eyes still fixed on the Tower. "I'm sure. I—I want to see this through."

"How do we get across?"

"There used to be a ferry, but it's obviously gone." Anders stepped closer to the water, thinking. "If I cast an ice spell onto the water, we could get across on the ice floe."

"If I fall off and get soaked, I will never let you forget it," Sarai joked.

Anders smiled at her, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. _I tried to swim this lake too many times_, he thought. _Made it across, once._

Anders had to try a few times before he created an ice floe large enough and steady enough for his liking. They carefully stepped onto it and began the slow, cautious trip across to the Circle Tower.

~—~

Even Sarai swore when they arrived at the Tower. Signs of battle were everywhere: fallen Templars and mages littered the outer courtyard, and scorch marks decorated the walls. There were piles of rubble and ashes wherever she looked.

The closer they came to the Tower, the more agitated Anders had become. Sarai had offered again that they turn back, but he had insisted on continuing. Now Behemot was sniffing his way around the courtyard, and Sarai was watching Anders anxiously.

"Andraste's knicker-weasels," he muttered under his breath. In response to Sarai's look, he simply said, "I hate this place."

"I un—" Sarai began, then corrected herself. "No, I _don't_ understand. I can't imagine what you went through. But I'm here."

"Just..." Anders took a step closer to her. "Just hold me."

She wrapped her arms tightly around him. "You're not a prisoner anymore, Anders," she whispered. "And you never will be."

They stood in each others' arms for some time, before Anders stepped back and took a deep breath. "All right. Let's go inside and see what's left."

Sarai stepped up to the huge doors and leaned heavily on one. "I think—" she grunted, "I think there's something blocking it." She tried the other door, which opened a few inches before grinding to a halt. She peered into the gap to see what was in the way. "Yes, there are some fallen beams blocking the door. Maybe we can—oh, Maker."

"What's wrong?"

Sarai stepped away from the door. "It's a blood bath in there."

Anders took another deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. "I can use a force spell to get the rubble out of the way." He stepped up, positioning himself so he could see where the beams had fallen. Magic burst from his fingers, and Sarai could hear movement behind the doors.

She pushed on the door again, and it swung open enough to admit them. They stepped inside, blinking against the sudden darkness. Behemot whined.

Gradually, Sarai's eyes adjusted to the dim light. As she had glimpsed from outside, blood spattered the walls and floor. There were more bodies, these mostly Templars. It seemed that the mages had fought their way out.

Carefully, they moved forward. Behemot scouted ahead, stopping or circling back when he felt his master was too far behind. They made their way through the first floor towards the stairs, and up to the second floor.

At one of the side doors, Behemot stopped and scratched at the door frame, whining. Sarai stepped up towards the Mabari. "What is it? Is there someone in there?" Behemot gave a quiet bark. "Alive?" Another bark.

Sarai looked at Anders, surprised. Then she pushed the door open, blades at the ready. The room seemed empty. Behemot trotted inside, apparently unconcerned. He led them into the room and around behind a screen, where a figure was propped up against the wall.

It was a mage, a woman in early middle age with flame-red hair. Her robes were caked with blood and soot, and her face was gaunt.

Anders began shaking. Sarai put a hand on his arm. "What's wrong? What is it?"

"I know her," he choked out. _Petra. Oh, Andraste, it's Petra_. Fear and rage were at war in Anders, and he was beginning to lose control.

Behemot whined and nosed the still mage. "Anders," Sarai said, "I think she's still alive."

Anders moved forward, knelt next to the mage he had known as a child. He felt fragile, as though he might shatter at the slightest shock. He sent a wave of healing magic through shaking fingers. The focus required by the healing steadied him as he examined her injuries and repaired what he found. She had been stabbed twice, no doubt by Templar blades. It seemed she had healed herself, but the healing was incomplete.

Sarai watched, staying alert in case there was someone else still in the Tower. Anders' healing magic washed over the other mage, filling the room with a gentle blue light.

Suddenly, the other mage gasped. Her hands weakly struck out as her eyes fluttered open. "Get away!" she said, her voice ragged.

"Petra," Anders said, trying to keep his voice steady. "It's okay, you're safe."

Her eyes struggled to focus on Anders' face. "Who are... a mage? Thank the Maker." Her eyes strayed to Sarai, and a look of panic crossed her features again.

"She's a friend," Anders insisted. "You're not in danger. Tell me what happened, Petra."

"How do you know my name?" she whispered.

"Don't you remember?" Anders said, surprised. "We were friends, Petra. I'm Anders."

"Anders?" Her eyes widened. "Is it really you? We heard... heard what you did. The Templars were so angry, they wanted to use the Rite of Annulment. We rebelled before they had the chance. But, Maker, so many of us died..." Her voice grew weaker. "I thought I was dead myself. When I came to, everyone who could leave was gone. I healed myself as best I could, but there was no way off the island. I ran out of food... I don't even know how long ago that was."

Sarai grabbed her water skin and pushed it into Anders' hand. "I'll get some bread out of my pack, we have to get her to eat something."

Anders held the water skin up to Petra's lips. "Drink some of this. You're okay now, it's going to be all right."

Petra took a few sips of water and coughed weakly. After another drink of water, she seemed to regain a little strength. "I can't believe it's you. How did you come here?"

"It's a long story," Anders said with a little smile. "I came to Ferelden after fleeing Kirkwall, and we came to the Tower to see if there was anything left."

"I'm glad you did," she murmured, her eyes slipping closed.

~—~

Sarai and Anders slowly nursed Petra back to health over the course of several days. While Anders cared for Petra, Sarai cleaned up some of the rooms. She dragged the corpses out into the courtyard, carefully separating mages from Templars. She ransacked the Tower kitchen, but found that Petra was right—there was nothing left, not even crumbs. They split their supplies three ways and encouraged Petra to eat as much as possible.

There was no one left in the Tower besides Petra. She described how a few other mages had survived the battle, but all of them had either died of their injuries or from hunger. The Templars had come back after the battle and taken away their wounded; they had not returned since.

The library, surprisingly, showed little damage. Most of the violence had taken place at the doors of the Tower. Anders helped Sarai sort through the books, deciding which they would take back with them and which they could leave and pick up later.

Sarai and Anders slept in the room next to Petra's. The first night, Sarai was awakened by Anders' shuddering breathing. He was huddled in bed, arms wrapped around his knees, eyes tightly shut. Blue fire flickered over his skin, appearing and disappearing.

"Anders?" Sarai reached out to him.

"I hate being here. I _hate_ it." He let out a harsh sob.

"Is there anything I can do? Do you—" Sarai hesitated. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Anders finally looked up at her. Then he abruptly unfolded himself and leapt out of bed. "Come on," he said sharply.

He led her up the stairs to the upper levels of the Tower. They stopped in front of a door, identical to all the others in Sarai's eyes. "This is where they would lock me up to punish me. Days at a time. Weeks, if I tried to escape." He threw open the door to reveal a narrow cell. There was no window. A bare wooden bench was the only furniture.

Grabbing her hand, he pulled her along to another room, this one slightly larger. There were manacles fixed to the walls, and two posts rose out of the floor in the center of the room.

"This is where they would take mages for lashings." He swept an arm angrily over his eyes, wiping away tears. "If you tried to heal yourself after a beating, they'd double the punishment. You've seen the scars on my back yourself."

They went up another flight of stairs, to a large room at the top of the Tower. "This is where they would drag us in the middle of the night for the Harrowing. If you failed, they made you Tranquil or killed you. Everyone—the Templars, the other mages, the First Enchanter—they all thought I would fail. I know the Templars were looking for an excuse to make me Tranquil."

Anders' breath was coming in harsh gasps. With a snarl, he grabbed the brazier in the middle of the room and threw it at the wall. Bolts of lightning flew from his fingers, blasting out the windows. He consumed the candles on the walls with a flash of fire.

Finally, his rage spent, Anders fell to his knees and wept. Sarai went to him and knelt beside him. She pulled him into her arms, whispering, "I'm so sorry, my love. I'm sorry."

Anders clung to her desperately, his shoulders shaking silently. After a while, his breathing slowed. "I was so alone," he told her quietly. "There's no one you can count on in the Tower. Not even the other mages. If the Templars knew you were close, they would use it against you, or do everything they could to keep you apart." He began to shake again.

"Shh. You're not alone anymore."

"When I escaped, I only thought of myself. That's all I knew. It was all I could think of, until I met Justice." He let out a bitter laugh. "I was selfish."

"No," Sarai told him firmly. "Don't blame yourself. Blame the Templars who kept you here, who taught you not to think of other mages. After all, once mages banded together, the Templars couldn't keep them here. You did that. You helped free them."

"So many of them are dead, Sarai. All those bodies... I did that, too."

She held him close, pressing her lips against his hair. "We both have blood on our hands. You can't let that paralyze you. We've done the best we can."

They stayed in the Harrowing chamber for a long time. Eventually, Sarai helped Anders to his feet and led him back downstairs, back to the room where they had been sleeping. Sarai pulled Anders into bed and laid down next to him. She put her arms around him and told him, "You are not alone. I'm here with you."

He kissed her then, not with desire but with desperation. _No mage I know has ever dared to fall in love. This is the rule I will most cherish breaking_. The words went unspoken between them.

~—~

Petra was eager to leave as soon as she was strong enough to walk. Anders, understandably, also could not get out of the Tower fast enough. On their last day in the Tower, Sarai led them out into the courtyard, where she had piled all the corpses she could find.

Anders summoned fire magic to immolate the dead. He began with the Templars, throwing fireballs fiercely into the pile of bodies. When they began to go up in flames, he turned to the mages.

"Anders," Petra said. "Let me. Please."

Anders nodded and stepped out of the other mage's way. Petra summoned a fire spell of her own, casting it gently at the base of the pyre. As the mages began to burn, tears slipped down Petra's cheeks.

Sarai drew close to Anders, wrapping one of his hands in both of her own. He looked down at her, face shadowed with old memories.

"I'm glad we came here," he told her softly. "I needed to lay this place to rest."

The next morning, they prepared their packs, gathered what books they could, and went into the Tower courtyard again. Anders stopped Sarai with a gentle touch. "There's one more thing I need to do," he told her.

Sarai nodded. She watched as he faced the entrance to the Tower. He took a deep breath, and then he was glowing with blue fire. With a primal roar, he sent a blast of power towards the doors. They bent inward, then tore free from their hinges and tumbled into the Tower.

Petra moved close to Sarai. "I understand now," she said. Sarai gave her a questioning look, and the mage said, "When we heard about what Anders had done, a lot of us couldn't believe he was capable of destroying the Chantry. But now I understand it. He's different now. Harsher."

"He is different," Sarai agreed as Anders turned to them, the blue fire draining from his eyes. "But I wouldn't have him any other way."

After they made their way back across the lake, Sarai left the two mages for long enough to go into a village and buy a horse and some saddlebags. Petra was still weak, and it would be easier to travel back to the school if she could ride. Along the way, they explained their project to her, and she enthusiastically agreed to help.

_Wynne will be happy that we brought back another teacher_, Sarai thought to herself. Just then, she saw Varric waving from the ridge blocking their view of the school.

"Why is Varric out waiting for us?" she wondered aloud. "Do you think something's wrong?"

"No-o," Anders said, suddenly animated. "I don't think there's anything wrong." He flashed Sarai a smile and took off towards Varric.


	17. Uniting

[**Author's Note**: In which we discover what Anders was scheming. This is probably the silliest thing I've ever written. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.]

~—~

Chapter Seventeen:

Uniting

Sarai watched in amusement as Anders rushed over to Varric. Petra looked down at Sarai from the horse's back, confused.

"Your guess is as good as mine," Sarai told her with a shrug. The two women made their way up the little ridge, where Varric and Anders were whispering frantically to each other.

"What is going on?" Sarai asked as she came close. She glanced over at the mage school, and saw a flurry of activity. There was a crowd of people, and chairs, and some kind of bower in the courtyard. She looked back to Anders, cocking her head questioningly.

Anders took a deep breath. Varric grinned.

"I have to ask you something," Anders said, his voice trembling. He took her hands in his own, looking directly into her green eyes. "Sarai, will you do me the honor of being my wife?"

Sarai gasped, taking an involuntary step backward. She hardly believed her ears. "Anders... do you mean it? Are—are you sure you want this?"

"I am completely certain," he said seriously. "I owe you everything—my life, my sanity, my happiness. I never want to lose you." He pulled her close again, touching her cheek gently. "I promised you I would learn to love you the way you deserved. This is what you deserve."

Tears came to Sarai's eyes. With a happy sob, she threw her arms around Anders' neck and pressed her lips against his.

"Thank the Maker," Anders said humorously when they pulled apart. "If you'd said no, I think the others would have killed me."

"The others?" Sarai asked.

"See for yourself," Anders said, gesturing at the mage school.

They made their way towards the school. As they came close, Sarai began to make out faces. Outside the gate, Bethany was bouncing on the balls of her feet in excitement. Next to her stood an elf with dark hair and wide green eyes.

"Merrill?" Sarai cried. She rushed forward, pulling the elf into a hug. "Merrill, I can't believe you're here!" Then she rounded on Anders. "Did you do this?"

Anders smiled. "Varric helped," he admitted.

"More like 'Varric did all the work while you two were gone,'" the dwarf snorted. "You should go in, Hawke, this is just the beginning."

Sarai looked into the courtyard and gasped again. She could see a white-haired elf in black armor, talking to a certain lascivious pirate. The guard captain of Kirkwall, her orange hair flowing, was setting out chairs with her husband. Not far away, Wynne was talking warmly with the assassin Zevran. They all turned when she stepped through the gates.

Sarai was swept up in Isabela's embrace. The Rivaini shamelessly kissed her on the lips, saying, "It's the last chance I've got! You're going to be a married woman!"

Somewhere behind her, Sarai could hear Wynne and the other Circle mages exclaiming over Petra's arrival, but she was surrounded by her companions and couldn't see beyond their circle. She embraced each friend in turn, beaming. "This is just—I can't believe you're all here!"

Anders interrupted their excited chatter, wrapping an arm around Sarai's waist. "You'll have plenty of time to catch up with everyone, I promise," he told her, "but right now, we have a wedding to put on."

"Right now?" Sarai asked, feeling an uncharacteristic burst of girlish modesty as she looked down at her sweaty and dusty armor. "I don't have anything to wear!"

"I'll give you half an hour to get ready," Anders replied, pushing her towards the school. "After that, I'm coming in to get you."

Bethany took her sister's hand, pulling her along. Aveline followed. Together, they went to Bethany's room. Laying on the bed was a simple white dress, decorated with subtle embroidery around the hem and cuffs.

Sarai touched the fabric gently. "Where did this come from?"

"Varric," Bethany replied with a smile. "Now get undressed, you have to take a bath before you can wear that."

They had set up a basin in the middle of the room. Sarai stripped as Aveline brought in warm water to pour over her. Bethany pulled Sarai's hair out of the practical ponytail where she normally wore it. "Maker, when was the last time you cut your hair?"

"Hair needs to be cut?" Sarai responded facetiously.

Bethany made a disgusted noise in jest. "Mother would be so annoyed with you if she were here."

The breath hitched in Sarai's throat at the thought. "Oh Bethany... I wish she were here."

"I know, sister," Bethany said softly. "She would be happy for you. I know she would."

After a quick bath, and once Bethany had done all she could with her sister's hair, Sarai put on the dress. It fell elegantly around her ankles. "This is perfect," she whispered, smoothing the fabric.

"There's more," Aveline said, picking up a veil from the desk and placing it on Sarai's head, letting the lace fall around her shoulders. "This is from me and Donnic."

"Aveline—it's beautiful. Thank you."

"It is just a small token," Aveline said in her usual straightforward way.

"No, thank you for being here. I know you have responsibilities in Kirkwall."

"The city is more peaceful now than it was when you left. At first, everyone who could afford to leave fled, leaving behind only the poor and the desperate. But after a while, the nobles started returning. They're still fighting for influence, to see who will be the new Viscount."

"All right," Bethany said, looking her sister over. "I think you're ready."

Aveline adjusted the veil one more time. "You look beautiful, Hawke," she said. "I'm going to find my seat."

She left the sisters and went back outside. Sarai grabbed Bethany's hand. "I can't believe this is happening," she whispered.

Bethany smiled. "It's about time, if you ask me." She started to lead her sister out of the room. "Now listen. I'm going to be your maid of honor, so I'll walk down the aisle in front of you."

"Can't you walk with me? I don't want to do this alone!" Sarai suddenly realized how ridiculous she sounded. _I've faced rock wraiths, Qunari, and mad Templars, and I suddenly can't walk twenty feet by myself?_

"You won't be alone," Bethany promised.

Then they were outside, and everyone turned around in their chairs to see her. Sarai saw Merrill under the bower, with Anders standing to one side. Directly in front of her, Varric gave an exaggerated bow and offered his arm.

"I hope you don't mind that it's me walking you down the aisle, Hawke," he murmured.

"It's perfect," Sarai replied, heart pounding.

~—~

Anders was smiling so wide, he thought his face might split open. Varric had gone above and beyond in planning the ceremony. Everything was perfect.

When Sarai came through the doors into the courtyard, he stopped breathing. He knew she preferred armor to fine clothes, but she looked stunning. Her hair fell in waves around her face under a lace veil. The white of her dress set off her tan skin and brown hair. _How did Varric manage to find a dress that fit her so well?_ he found himself wondering, eyes straying over her curves.

Bethany began the short walk down the aisle, smiling at Anders before taking her place off to the left. Then Sarai took Varric's arm and started towards the bower. Anders locked eyes with her, feeling as though there was nothing else in the courtyard.

In a matter of moments, Sarai had reached the end of the aisle. Varric gently peeled her fingers off his arm and steered her to her place under the bower opposite Anders. Then he went to stand on the right, behind Anders.

Anders stared at Sarai, unable to pull his eyes away from her. Nervously, she reached for his hands, and he squeezed her fingers lovingly. The bower over their heads was decorated with greens, and the faint smell of honeysuckle drifted over them.

Merrill cleared her throat. "Andaran atish'an," she began. "I am here because, well, you see, Anders wanted me to do this, and I got a message from Varric, so I came right away and—"

"Daisy," Varric said. "Stay on topic."

"Oh! Right. Yes. I am here to witness to the joining of Anders and Sarai in the tradition of my people, and to give blessing on their uniting."

Merrill's began to speak in elven, and Sarai let the lilting sound wash over her. The meaning of the words was lost on her, but their beauty was not. After several minutes, Merrill looked at Sarai and Anders.

"Now, Anders, say 'ma emma lath, emma vhenan.' It means 'You are my love, my heart.'"

Anders carefully repeated the phrase. The look in his eyes conveyed the depth of his meaning.

"Now you, Hawke."

Sarai repeated the phrase again, stumbling a little over the round elven syllables.

"Anders," Merrill whispered, "Do you have a ring? There's usually a ring."

Varric stepped up smoothly and handed the ring to Anders. Anders slipped it onto Sarai's finger, and she stared. "This was my mother's ring! How–?"

"Bethany took it with her when she left Kirkwall. She wanted us to use it."

Sarai turned to her sister, who nodded. "It's what Mother would have wanted."

The ring in place, Sarai and Anders turned back to Merrill. The elf raised her staff in a benediction.

"May Mythal protect you in all your ways, and may Sylaise keep watch over your home and hearth, until Falon'Din comes to guide you beyond the Veil." Merrill gave a shy smile. "This is the part where you should kiss," she told them.

Anders swept Sarai into his arms, giving her a kiss that was neither brief nor chaste. Isabela whooped loudly as the rest of the group began to applaud. When the couple showed no signs of ending their embrace, Varric kicked Anders.

"Andraste's ass, leave something to the imagination. You'll have plenty of time for that later, Blondie. The rest of us want to congratulate you."

~—~


	18. Reuniting

[**Author's Note**: A short chapter this time. Starting with the next chapter, I'll be working towards the climax, so stay tuned! Thanks for all the comments/favorites/subscriptions.]

~—~

Chapter Eighteen:

Reuniting

After the short marriage ritual came an immense celebratory feast. Varric had outdone himself, bringing in a sparkling Orlesian wine for the guests, exotic fruits and candies, and more food than they could possibly hope to eat. Lenora had taken charge of preparing the meal, working alongside her daughter to arrange trays of food and carry them out to the dining hall.

Sarai was overwhelmed. She stood in the entrance to the school with tears in her eyes, watching her friends eat, drink, and laugh. Anders had been reluctant to leave her side, but she had pushed him away with a laugh. Now he was deep in conversation with Wynne and Petra, no doubt discussing the Circle Tower.

Varric sauntered up to her side. "I hope those are tears of happiness, Hawke. Because I spent too much on this for you to be disappointed."

"Oh, Varric," she said. "It's wonderful. Absolutely wonderful. How on earth did you put this all together in such a short time?"

"The business in Ferelden is booming," he answered, hands on his belt. "My connections in Lothering were well-equipped and ready to deliver."

Just then, Isabela stumbled over, already drunk. "Varric," she slurred, "This wine is... is... ahh-mazing."

Varric looked at the pirate, mirth in his eyes. "You're drinking brandy, Rivaini."

"Am I?" she asked, looking down at her cup. She gave an experimental sniff. "So I am. Good brandy," she said, raising the drink in a toast. Then she rounded on Sarai. "Kitten, I am sooo happy for you."

Sarai laughed. "Are you sure you're not just happy for the brandy?"

"No. No. I'm happy for you. Andraste knows it took him long enough..." she paused to take another drink. "I envy you, kitten."

"You envy me? You said you hated marriage."

"Oh, I do. Never gonna make that mistake again. But he is _so_ good-looking." Isabela looked at Anders, giving him an obvious once-over. "I'd take a bite of that any day. Did I ever tell you about the time Anders and I—"

"Okay, Rivaini, I think that's enough from you," Varric said, steering Isabela away. "I'm going to put you to bed before you try to start a game of strip Wicked Grace."

"I love strip Wicked Grace!" Isabela exclaimed, reaching for the laces on her already-revealing top.

"That's because you cheat," came the reply as Varric slapped her hands away.

~—~

The celebration wore on late into the night. Bethany shepherded the mage students to bed, ignoring their protests and demands to stay up. Isabela made several reappearances, each time more intoxicated that the last, before finally passing out across a table, a small puddle of saliva collecting around her cheek.

Sarai and Anders were sitting together, talking with Merrill. Further down the table, Aveline, Donnic and Bethany were enjoying their own conversation.

"So Merrill," said Sarai, "Were you able to find any of the Dalish in the Brecilian Forest?"

"Oh! I did, yes. I found another clan I had known from before and asked if I could join them."

"How did that go?" Anders asked. "Did you tell them about what happened with your last clan?"

Merrill's face fell. "I did. The Keeper was very angry."

"Did they take you in?" Sarai asked gently.

"They said I could stay with them, but I'm not allowed to use any blood magic and they already have a First for their Keeper. But that's okay!" she continued. "I'm just glad to be with my own people again, and I love the Forest, and maybe eventually I'll find my place and be able to do something for them."

Merrill's cheeks were unusually flushed. At that moment, the elf gave an enormous hiccup and leaned forward, her forehead flat on the table. Sarai and Anders exchanged a look.

"I'll find her a bed," Anders said, hoisting Merrill to her feet and pulling her arm around his neck.

The room was warm, and Sarai's head felt fuzzy from all the wine. "I need to get a little fresh air."

He nodded, giving her a smile as he half-carried, half-led Merrill away. Sarai stepped out into the courtyard, taking a deep breath of the cool night air.

Without warning, Fenris appeared beside her. She started. "Fenris! I wondered where you had gone."

"We need to talk," he growled.

"Of course," she said. "About what?"

"This place," he said, looking disapprovingly around the courtyard.

Sarai sighed. _I should have seen this coming_. "All right, Fenris. What do you have to say?"

"You know that I respect you, Hawke," he began. "And I am willing to admit that even mages should not be made slaves."

She nodded. Even that was a concession from how Fenris had felt when they met.

"But I cannot accept what you are doing here. It is foolishness. It will only lead to ruin."

"Why not?" she replied sharply. "What is so wrong about teaching mages to control their gifts without locking them up, or making them Tranquil, or killing them?"

"Because mages need to be controlled. When they are allowed to run free, they are far too dangerous. They keep slaves and they practice blood magic. They kill innocents and blow up buildings."

"_Enough_, Fenris."

"You are creating another Tevinter!" he snarled.

"You have no idea what we're doing here!" she snapped in response. "You've been here for one day. How can you possibly know what these mages are like?"

"I have seen more than enough of mages."

She rubbed a hand over her face. "Fenris, I'm drunk and this is my wedding night. I don't want to argue with you about mages."

He nodded once. "I have said what I wanted to say. I hope that you will consider it." The silence stretched between them. "I suppose it is appropriate to offer congratulations."

Her face quirked in a half-smile. "Only if you actually mean them."

"I am... glad that you are happy, Hawke. Even if I do not approve of your choice."

"I will never understand you," she said. "If you hate Anders so much, why did you come?"

"Because you called. Even though the message came from Varric, I would always come when you call."

At that, Sarai's smile was genuine. "Thank you. That means a great deal."

The two went back inside, walking in peaceable silence. The hall was nearly empty. Isabela was still dead to the world. Varric, Zevran and Anders were the only ones still awake. Sarai went and sat next to Anders, while Fenris took a seat across the table.

"Feels like being back at the Hanged Man," Sarai commented.

"Especially with Isabela passed out in her own fluids," Fenris agreed with distaste.

"I miss that bar," Varric said. "Cesspool that it was."

The companions were quiet for a moment. Then Anders put his hands on the table and pushed himself to his feet. "Well, this has been fun, but I have something better to do." Without another word, he pulled Sarai to her feet, then scooped her up into his arms.

She laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck, and let him carry her out of the room and up the stairs.

~—~


	19. Royal Summons

~—~

Chapter Nineteen:

Royal Summons

Sarai and Anders slept in the next morning, curled together in their bed. When the morning light streaming through the window became too bright to ignore, Sarai finally stretched, tapping Anders' nose to wake him.

"Good morning," she said blissfully.

"Mm. Good morning, my love."

She rested her forehead against his, breathing in his scent. "Anders," she whispered, "thank you. Thank you so much."

"For that thing I did?" He grinned. "You don't have to thank me, I was enjoying it as much as you were."

She shook her head, laughing. "You know that's not what I meant. Thank you for yesterday. Thank you for marrying me." Then she hesitated. "Are you sure this is what you wanted? I don't want you to do this just for me."

"Sarai," he said, laying his hand on her cheek. "Doing it just for you would be more than enough reason. But this is what I want. You are my heart, and I never want to be away from you."

She kissed him. He slid his hand to the back of her neck and deepened the kiss, letting his tongue flirt with hers. Just as their bodies tightened together, there was a knock at the door.

Sarai groaned. "Whoever is knocking had better be willing to part with their hands," she yelled.

"I really hate to interrupt whatever's going on in there," Varric's voice said through the door, "but you need to come downstairs. Right now."

The tension in the dwarf's voice was unmistakable. Sarai and Anders exchanged a nervous look, then rushed to get dressed.

~—~

Sarai walked quickly through the dining hall into the common room, armed and armored. Her group of companions, in various states of consciousness, waited for her. She gave them a quick nod, and Varric gestured to the stranger who was sitting beside the fire. He wore a tunic with the royal insignia.

"A royal messenger?" Sarai asked.

The man stood and nodded. "Are you Sarai Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall?"

"Former Champion, yes," she said, with a glance at Varric that dared him to disagree.

"Queen Anora sent me with a message."

Sarai waited for a moment. When the man did not continue, she said, "Well? What is the message?"

The messenger looked nervously at the varied group of companions. "It's meant for your ears, messere."

"My ears are right here," she replied. "And my companions will not be leaving, so say your piece."

After another moment's hesitation, the messenger said, "The Queen requests your presence in an audience at the palace in Denerim. She desires to speak with you as soon as possible."

Surprised, Sarai glanced around the room. Her companion's faces reflected her own feelings. The silence stretched a moment longer before she said, "Well. Thank you. You may return to the Queen and tell her you delivered your message."

The messenger looked as though he wanted to protest, but another look at Sarai's face convinced him to give up. He stood, gave a quick bow, and fled.

~—~

"It's a trap, Hawke. An obvious trap," Varric declared. The group was still in the common room, sitting in the circle of chairs around the fire. Isabela had her head in her hands.

"I agree," said Fenris.

"But it's _so_ obvious," Sarai countered. "I mean, Queen Anora isn't that stupid. There has to be something else here."

"What else?" Anders asked.

"Well, why would Anora want to see me?"

"One, you're openly training apostates in her country," Varric said, ticking items off on his fingers. "Two, you're harboring Anders. In her country. Three, you're responsible for the death of the Prince of Starkhaven. In her country."

"_You're_ responsible for that!" Sarai argued. "I was just there."

"Yes, I'm sure the Queen will make that distinction," the dwarf replied drily.

Aveline spoke up. "It doesn't look good, Hawke. It would be convenient for her if you were to... disappear."

"You really think she intends to kill me?"

"I doubt she intends to do it with her own hands," said Zevran from the corner. "But I am quite certain the Queen has more than one Crow in her employ. They could kill you as you traveled to Denerim—or, better, as you returned home, confident that you were out of harm's way."

"Then why not send her assassins here? Why send the messenger at all?"

"Because, beautiful Hawke, this is your territory. Here you are protected by your friends. Here you are safe. As soon as you leave these gates, you are vulnerable. A good assassin would always wait until his mark is vulnerable."

"Why are we even still discussing this?" Anders demanded. "You're not going."

"And what if I don't go?" Sarai replied. "She's the Queen of Ferelden. She could send an army to destroy this school if she wanted to. If I ignore her summons, it puts all of the students in danger. We can't risk that."

"I won't let you put yourself in harm's way!" he shot back.

"Since when was that your decision to make?"

He made a noise of frustration and grabbed her by the arms. "Do you really think this is about me making decisions for you? You could be killed! I can't let that happen! I _can't!_"

"We can't endanger the students here, Anders! They're children, they don't deserve to be caught up in the consequences of our actions!"

"So you're just going to walk into an ambush?"

"Of course not," she snapped. "I'm not _just_ going to walk into anything. But I'm not going to stay here and do nothing, either. What we need is a plan."

Isabela groaned miserably without looking up. "Andraste's marble tits, we're going to Denerim, aren't we?"

~—~

Several hours later, Isabela had sobered up, and the companions were laying out a plan.

"First things first: I have no intention to go to Denerim alone. I'd like you all to come with me, if you're willing." Sarai looked around at her companions.

"Of course we'll go, Hawke," Varric said, and the others nodded.

"Thank you. I also don't want to leave the school defenseless. Bethany, will you stay here with Wynne and Petra?"

"If that's what you think is best, sister."

"Good. I'll leave Behemot here with you as well. Hopefully there won't be any trouble, but we can't be too careful.

"Now, the odds are good that assassins will be lying in wait," Sarai continued. "Zevran, if you scouted the route ahead of us, would you be able to find them?"

He gave a predatory smile. "Indeed."

"What about in Denerim? Could you find assassins hiding in the city?"

"Denerim is a large place, but I could certainly check the most likely locations. It would not be the first time I've done so."

Sarai inclined her head in thanks. "Do that. We also need to consider the possibility that the Queen will just arrest me as soon as I arrive in the palace. If that happens, I want you to let them take me."

Anders scowled.

"We cannot hope to fight the entirety of Queen Anora's royal guard, not to mention her army. If it comes to it, I can break out of prison. And if it's just me Anora wants, then we know the mage school is safe." She swept her eyes over the room. "Protecting the school is the first priority. Does everyone understand?"

Her companions nodded seriously. "Good," Sarai said. "Varric, take care of the arrangements. We leave for Denerim in the morning."

~—~

At dawn the next morning, the companions were gathered in the courtyard. Varric handed out packs and bedrolls. Zevran shouldered his pack and set out immediately to scout ahead and find a campsite for that night.

Sarai tightened the straps on her armor and tested the edge on her blades. She stretched, touching her toes and limbering up. All around her, her friends were preparing themselves for a journey of uncertain ending. Donnic and Aveline were checking each other's armor. Isabela was stretching in a way that Sarai was not sure was entirely practical, though it was hard to tell who the pirate was trying to impress. Fenris adjusted his gauntlets, his face stoic. Merrill twisted her staff nervously in her hands.

Standing off to one side, Anders scowled. Sarai approached him, taking one of his hands. Neither spoke for several minutes.

Finally, Sarai said, "I'm sorry, Anders."

"You shouldn't be doing this," he hissed.

"I have to. You know I have to." Another moment of silence. "Please don't be angry."

He sighed heavily and drew her into his arms. "I can't lose you." _It would kill me to lose you._

Then everyone was ready. Sarai broke away from Anders and gave the signal. The companions moved out of the courtyard and started towards Denerim.

Sarai expected the trip would take four days. She set a brisk pace, stopping only for a short lunch each day. In the evening, they would catch up to Zevran and camp in the locations he found. He reported no signs of danger, but the companions took turns keeping watch just in case.

The final night on the road, a sense of foreboding began to hound Sarai. After the evening meal, she crawled into the tent she and Anders shared. He was already in their bedroll, his back towards her. They had not spoken more than a few words since they left the school.

"Anders," she murmured. "I need to talk to you."

He turned over to look at her. "Yes?"

"I don't know what will happen tomorrow, but..." She blinked away the tears that suddenly threatened to well up in her eyes. "If we don't come through this—"

"Stop," he said firmly. "Let's not talk that way."

Sarai took a shuddering breath. "Anders, I—"

"Come here," he said gently, pulling open the bedroll.

She crawled over to him. He gently helped her undress for the night, then pulled her close. His fingers wandered over her skin, tracing the scars that marked a lifetime of battles. "I healed every one of these," he remarked quietly. Even now, he could remember how she had gotten each one: this from the Deep Roads expedition, these from the fight with the Arishok, that from the high dragon.

The tears in Sarai's eyes spilled over, then. She put her hands up to her face and wept. _I don't want to lose him. I don't want to lose what we have. Maker, why does it have to be me to do this?_

He wrapped his arms tightly around her, feeling her shoulders shake. "Shh," he whispered.

"I never asked for this," she whispered back. "I never wanted to be the Champion. All I wanted was my family—and you. And I've lost almost all of them. I don't want to lose you, too."

"I know." He gently kissed her at the base of her neck. "I'm sorry I dragged you into this."

"Don't be. It's not your fault. I care about what happens to mages, too. And I would die to protect what we've built."

Anders tried to keep his breathing steady against the rush of emotions. _I was willing to sacrifice everything, even my life, to achieve justice for mages. But I'm not willing to sacrifice you_, he thought. _Not you_. "Let's just pray it doesn't come to that, my love."

~—~


	20. Anora's Bargain

~—~

Chapter Twenty:

Anora's Bargain

Sarai entered the city of Denerim for the second time of her life, this time not fleeing danger but heading straight for it. It was late afternoon, and she and her companions walked quickly through the streets. They were heading for the Pearl, where they had agreed to meet Zevran.

Everyone was fully alert. There had been no sign of assassins on the road to Denerim, but the city had a thousand hiding places. They wasted no time making their way through the streets, staying with the crowds and away from the narrow alleys.

When they entered the Pearl, the bartender gave them a nod and pointed them towards a side room. Zevran was waiting, his feet up on a table.

"Ah, my beautiful bird of prey has arrived!"

"Zevran," Sarai said in greeting as she sat. "I take it you didn't find any signs of trouble?"

"None, my dear. I scouted the city and the exterior of the palace. I also listened to the talk here and in the other taverns. If there were Crows out on the hunt, I would know of it."

"What about other assassins besides the Crows?" asked Sarai.

"If they are seeking you, then I feel very sorry for them, for they would be no match for your skill."

"Well, that's a relief," Varric commented.

"Don't get too comfortable," Aveline warned. "We are not out of danger yet."

"I agree, Aveline," Sarai replied. "But it seems the danger will not be coming from an assassin."

"What's the plan from here?" Isabela asked.

"We'll stay in the Pearl tonight and go to the palace first thing in the morning. I don't want to take any chances, so we should keep watch."

The companions ordered a meal. The evening was relaxed but subdued; none of them forgot the seriousness of what they were doing. Even Isabela stayed to spend time with the group instead of going to find a bed to share for the night. Sarai retired early and slept restlessly, unable to shake her feeling of anxiety.

~—~

The next morning, the companions entered the palace gates, where they were stopped by two of the royal guards.

"State your name and purpose."

"Sarai Hawke. I'm here at the Queen's invitation. Please tell her my companions and I have arrived."

One of the guards went to deliver the message. A few minutes later, he returned to escort them inside. He left them in an antechamber with an instruction to wait until the Queen was ready to see them.

They waited in the antechamber for the better part of an hour. Finally, a courtier, flanked by two new guards, came into the room.

"Sarai Hawke?"

Sarai stepped forward confidently. Anders stayed close behind her, and the rest of her friends fell in behind them.

"The Queen will see you now. Your companions can wait for you here."

Sarai felt Anders tense. "I'm sorry," she said, "But I'm afraid that's not possible. They go where I go."

The courtier looked displeased. After a moment's thought, she sighed and gestured to the door. "Very well. Follow me."

The group followed her down a hallway to an immense throne room. Queen Anora sat on a raised dais, surrounded by advisors and guards. As Sarai and the others approached, she stood and came forward.

"Champion," she said warmly. "Thank you for answering my summons so promptly."

Sarai assessed the situation, her mind racing. _Why is Anora being so friendly if she just plans to get rid of me?_ She bowed deeply, saying, "Your highness, I am honored."

Anora raised an eyebrow in amusement. "The Champion of Kirkwall need not bow so low. I have been told you were nearly Viscountess."

"I am a Fereldan, your highness. And I do not believe the people of Kirkwall wanted to keep me after... certain events transpired. I come here as one of your subjects."

"Hmm. One of my subjects who has caused me no shortage of headaches." Anora considered the other woman for a moment before continuing, "Let us speak openly."

Sarai nodded.

Anora sighed. "The truth is, you have placed me in a very difficult situation. Ferelden remains in a tenuous position. We had only begun to recover from the Orlesian occupation when the Blight began. Then we suffered Cailan's death at Ostagar and my father's—Loghain's—treachery. It is a miracle that the Wardens were able to slay the archdemon before it utterly destroyed Denerim.

"In the midst of all this, we hear of the events in Kirkwall: a mage rebellion that destroyed Chantry, Circle, and Templars. It was only a matter of weeks before mages in the other Circles began to rebel. Here in Ferelden, we lost more than half our Templars."

Anders seethed, and Sarai knew exactly what he was thinking. _What about the mages? How many of them were killed trying to reach freedom?_

"The remaining Templars have staged a rebellion of their own, ignoring the instructions from the Chantry and hunting down mages without restraint." Anora's voice grew sharp as she continued, "And then, when I have mages, Templars, and Chantry to deal with, I learn that the Champion of Kirkwall has come to Ferelden. How did I learn this? I learned it when the Prince of Starkhaven arrived here, demanding that I turn you—and your companion, the mage responsible for the destruction of the Chantry—over to him.

"I told him I had no idea where you were, and he set out to find you himself. Can you tell me, Sarai Hawke, how he ended up dead within my borders?"

Sarai remained impassive. "He was out of his mind. He threatened my life; one of my companions killed him. We neither sought him out nor desired his death."

"I desired it," Varric muttered under his breath. Isabela kicked him.

"I trust that I do not need to remind you: you are no longer in Kirkwall. You cannot do as you please with impunity. In particular, you cannot kill heads of state with no thought for the consequences."

"With respect, your highness, I will take that under advisement the next time I am being brutally tortured."

"I have not finished," Anora replied, holding up a hand. "At this point in our tale, I am facing a diplomatic crisis with Starkhaven. They are demanding that I turn over the murderer of their Prince, when I do not even know who is responsible. They are threatening me with war.

"I am seeking you, of course; and what do I discover? That you have begun training apostates in a school built by dwarves in the middle of the Bannorn. Once again, you acted with no regard for the consequences, or for the political ramifications."

She gestured, and one of her advisors stepped forward. Sarai was surprised to find that she recognized him.

"This is Bann Teagan Guerrin," Anora said. "And he controls the land you decided to use for your school."

"Bann Teagan," Sarai said with a smile, "It is good to see you again."

"Indeed," he replied. "I trust you have not killed any Orlesian nobles since our last meeting?"

"Only the ones who _really_ deserved it," she answered with a wicked grin.

"You will forgive me," Anora cut in, "If I do not find this a laughing matter. What you have done not only disregards the political realities—not to mention land laws—of Ferelden; you have also directly violated the teaching and rule of the Chantry.

"You say that you are a Fereldan, yet I cannot imagine how you could act with such a cavalier attitude towards your own people. What you have done may bring dire consequences on all of us."

Sarai frowned. "I take it that this is not an idle threat."

"On the contrary. The Divine is considering an Exalted March against Ferelden."

Sarai took a sharp breath, and she sensed a reaction from her companions as well. _An Exalted March? Would the Chantry really do such a thing to punish a few dozen mages?_

"Why did you summon me?" Sarai asked. "What would you have me do?"

"If I had my will, you would never have come to Ferelden in the first place. Since that is impossible, the only way to placate the Divine is to raze your school."

"No," she said. Anora raised her brows. "Your highness, the school must stand. The Circle has become untenable—obviously—and there is no alternative outside of Tevinter. If mages do not receive training, it is inevitable that they will be unable to control their powers. Without this school, you are sentencing every mage born in Ferelden—every mage in Thedas—to death, and there will be non-mage blood shed as well."

"I suspected you would say as much," Anora replied. "I'm sure you know that your friends cannot hope to defend your school against an army, should I send one. But I believe there is another alternative."

"Oh?"

"Ferelden needs allies. It is no accident that Val Royeaux threatens us, when both Orlais and the Chantry have it as their capital. I seek to prevent another Orlesian occupation of our land. Meanwhile, the Templars and the mages have gone to war with one another.

"Here is what I propose: Ferelden and the mages form an alliance. I can offer some degree of protection against the Chantry and the Templars, and the mages can offer me a powerful resource against Orlais."

"You... want me to vouch for the allegiance of the mages? As in, all of them?"

"There is no one better to act as such a spokesperson."

Sarai was stunned. She glanced back at Anders, trying to gauge his reaction. He looked surprised, but suspicion lingered in his eyes.

"This is... unexpected. I'm not certain how to respond."

"I understand," Anora said. "Please, be my guests here in the palace for a few days, and we will speak again." In response to Sarai's hesitation, she added, "I can imagine your concern. I guarantee your safety, and that of your companions, for as long as you are under my roof."

Just as Sarai was about to agree, the doors at the end of the room slammed open. A flustered attendant rushed forward, gasping, "Your highness, please forgive me, I tried to tell her she could not come in, but she just won't _listen!_"

Behind the attendant, and utterly eclipsing him, were a group of warriors. Their armor marked them as Grey Wardens, and their leader was a dwarf. She commanded the room without saying a word as she strode towards Anora.

"Andraste screw me, it's the Hero of Ferelden," Varric breathed.

~—~

[**Author's Note**: Drama! We are moving towards the end of the story, but there are still a few chapters to go. I hope you're enjoying it—thanks for all the comments!

For those who are wondering, the dialogue between Teagan and Hawke is referring to the Mark of the Assassin expansion.]


	21. The Hero of Ferelden

[**Author's Note**: I found writing the Warden really difficult, since she's the only character who doesn't have a voice in the games. Please let me know what you think!]

~—~

Chapter Twenty-One:

The Hero of Ferelden

Sarai tried not to stare as the Hero of Ferelden crossed the length of the throne room, bearing down on Queen Anora. Rhiannon Aeducan was a dwarf with coppery hair falling to her chin and two thin braids pulled back elegantly into a knot at the back of her head. Her face was decorated with geometric dwarven tattoos. She was armed with sword and shield, and her expression was hard.

The Hero was followed by two other warriors. Alistair gave an awkward wave and a smile to Sarai as he passed. The other warrior was a foul-smelling dwarf with a long red beard and an immense battle-axe strapped to his back. All three were dressed in the blue-and-silver livery of the Grey Wardens.

Anora seemed irritated. "Rhiannon, this is a private audience. You cannot just come bursting in here whenever you want something."

"This matter concerns the Grey Wardens," the dwarf responded. Her tone was clipped, but she spoke with authority. This was a woman who was used to people listening when she had something to say.

"This matter concerns the management of my kingdom," Anora countered. "You are not supposed to be meddling in political affairs."

"The Grey Wardens have a vested interest in the outcome of this meeting. I am here to ensure that our interests are protected."

"Your interests?" Anora said incredulously. "What interests could you possibly have in a Ferelden land dispute?"

"Do not try to mislead me, Anora. I am well aware of the situation."

Sarai took a step closer to Anders. "Maker," she whispered. "That's the _Hero of Ferelden_."

"Yes, love," he whispered back drily. "I've met her before."

Disappointed in Anders' lack of awe, Sarai looked to her companions for a face that matched her own amazement. She found it: Varric's jaw was actually hanging open.

"Can you believe we're in the same room with her?" she asked him in hushed excitement.

He dragged his eyes away from the Hero and looked at Sarai. "I cannot. I absolutely cannot."

If Rhiannon heard these remarks, she ignored them. Still addressing Anora, she said, "The Grey Wardens need mages for our ranks. We have already arranged to recruit from the school. I cannot allow you to threaten this arrangement."

"It seems you have been ill-informed," Anora replied thinly. "I have just offered the Champion an alliance between Ferelden and the mages."

Rhiannon flicked her eyes from Anora's face to Sarai's. "What are the terms of this alliance?"

"We have not yet settled the particulars. I had just suggested they take a few days' time to consider the arrangement."

"Whatever agreement you reach, the Wardens must still be able to recruit mages. I will remain to protect our stake."

"I wouldn't break my agreement with the Wardens," Sarai blurted out. "My word is good."

Rhiannon nodded. "So I believe. Thank you."

"If you insist on remaining..." Anora paused for a moment, perhaps hoping that the Hero would agree to go. Hearing no response, she sighed. "If you must remain, why don't we share supper this evening at my table. We can further discuss the situation then."

"Very well," Rhiannon said. She turned to leave the room, giving a nod to Sarai and her companions. "Anders," she said. "It is good to see you are... well."

He stiffened. "Yes, Comm—er, Rhiannon."

The Wardens left the room as quickly as they had come.

~—~

A servant showed Sarai and her companions to a suite of rooms that had been prepared for them. Sarai examined the quarters with approval. To be sure, they were comfortable, spacious, and elegantly decorated. More importantly, they were clustered together; the companions would be able to come to her aid in a moment if anything happened.

Several more servants, most of them elves, arrived to attend to the guests. They explained to Sarai, politely but firmly, that it would be inappropriate to wear her armor to the evening meal. Instead, they presented an array of fine clothes for Sarai and her companions to choose from.

As the supper hour approached, Sarai changed into fine leggings and a silk blouse. She couldn't bring herself to wear a dress—it would restrict her movement too much, and she was still on edge.

She gathered with her friends, all of them dressed for the meal. Even Isabela had resigned herself to wearing a palace-approved gown, though she had picked the one with the lowest neckline. Merrill looked nervous in her dress, and she kept picking at the seams until Varric slapped her hand.

Finally, Anders came out to join the others. He looked utterly miserable out of his robe and boots. He tugged on his cuffs and twisted his neck against the doublet.

Isabela whistled. "Well, well, look at you, tasty morsel!"

"Do we have to do this?" Anders pleaded. "I feel like a fool."

"Yes, we have to do this," Sarai answered, pulling him into her arms. "And you look _wonderful_."

The group was escorted to the dining room, where they were guided into assigned seats along the table. Several of the advisors from that morning were already in the room, including Bann Teagan. Shortly after Sarai took her seat, the Grey Wardens arrived. Alistair clapped Zevran on the back, to Sarai's surprise, and the two struck up an animated conversation.

Sarai found herself seated across from the Hero of Ferelden, just a few seats down from the head of the table. Anders was several seats away, and she gave him an apologetic look.

"Sarai Hawke. I am glad to finally meet you."

"And I am honored to meet you... Rhiannon? May I call you that?"

Rhiannon's face quirked slightly. "By all means. I would prefer we not rely on formalities."

The Queen arrived, and everyone rose to greet her. She motioned for them to sit down, and the first course was brought in.

As Sarai tasted her soup, Rhiannon glanced down the table at Anders. The mage still looked uncomfortable, but he was listening to something Isabela was saying, and when Varric cracked a joke, his face broke into a smile.

"Anders—how is he?" the dwarf asked.

"That is never an easy question to answer," Sarai admitted. "But... he's well."

"I feel I should say that I have always regretted what happened in Amaranthine. I did not expect Anders would find being a Warden so unbearable. And I'm sorry to say I wasn't there to defend him when he and Justice merged."

"Would you have? Defended him?"

"Yes. Both of them were loyal to the Wardens, and we never could have saved Amaranthine and the Keep without them."

"So the fact that he let a Fade Spirit possess him doesn't bother you?"

"No. What bothers me is that he felt the need to flee." Rhiannon reflected for a moment, then confessed, "I have never understood mages. Or the Chantry, or the Circles."

Sarai raised her brows in surprise.

"Among my people, there is the Stone and the Ancestors," she explained. "The Stone gives us lyrium, which we mine and sell to the Chantry. All their concern with the wickedness of magic, all their claims for the necessity of the Templars, is foreign to me. I find mages very difficult to understand. Anders more so than most."

Sarai considered this as the first course was cleared and the second arrived. "When Anders was in the Circle, they punished him by locking him in a tiny, dark cell. Having seen it, I can understand why he would hate the Deep Roads so much." She laughed a little. "Although to be honest, I can't say I liked the Deep Roads, either. Maybe I would have liked it better if everything there wasn't trying to kill me."

"I would tell you to go to Orzammar instead, but I'm not sure it would be an improvement."

_Did the Hero of Ferelden just crack a joke?_ Sarai wondered. "Tell me," she said suddenly, "how do you deal with it?"

Rhiannon gave her a questioning look. "With what?"

"With being the Hero. With all the expectations."

The expression on Rhiannon's face was understanding. "In much the same way you do, I expect. I do what I believe is right, and I ignore anyone who tries to stop me."

Sarai smiled at that. "I thought I was the only one."

The main course, roast lamb, was brought in. Anora took the opportunity to enter their conversation.

"I see the two of you have gotten acquainted. I trust that we can come to an amicable agreement regarding the mage school."

"I believe we can," Rhiannon agreed. "I am confident that Sarai will uphold her arrangement with the Wardens to allow us to recruit mages."

"Excellent. I am glad to hear that."

The rest of the evening passed in pleasant conversation. When the group finally retired to their rooms, Sarai was exhausted. She gave Anders a light kiss on the cheek before crawling into the luxurious bed.

~—~

Anders could not sleep. The fact did not surprise him. He was relieved that the Queen had not tried to harm Sarai—if she had, he was not certain he would have been able to control himself. Still, a sense of unease lingered. He did not feel safe in the palace.

After several hours of watching Sarai's chest rise and fall peacefully, Anders began to feel stifled. _I just need some fresh air_, he thought. _That will help me relax_. After all these years, fresh air was a still a luxury to him.

He left the suite of rooms and wandered down a hallway, looking for a way out. After a few turns, he spotted a doorway that led onto a wide balcony.

Looking up at the stars, he found his thoughts turning to the Warden Commander—_Only she's not the Commander anymore_, he reminded himself. Seeing her again brought back memories of the Grey Wardens, memories he had tried to forget. But he had to admit, not all of the memories were painful ones. The Wardens were the first to ever accept him, not treat him like a monster. And when he had tried to find his phylactery, the Commander had protected him from the Templars, refusing to give him up. No one had _ever_ taken his side against a Templar before.

But his memories turned dark, as they always did. That fateful agreement to give Justice a living body so they could fight for the mages together... and when the Templars had come for him that time, the Commander had not been there. _Would it have been any different if she had been? Or would she have ended up as just another casualty of our rage?_

Lost in his thoughts, he didn't hear the soft footsteps behind him, or the slight scrape of armor as a sword was raised. A flash of pain went through his head as a sword pommel came down on his temple. He fell forward onto his knees.

At the same moment, he felt a familiar, awful power surround him. He was being silenced, prevented from casting spells. _Templars_, he realized, and terror rushed through him. He managed to turn around, trying to see his attackers, but a shield bashed into his face and sent him reeling.

"Do it now!" an accented voice ordered. "Hurry, there's not much time!"

_No_, he thought, _You can't take me. Never again_. Anger began boiling inside him, joining with the fear. He felt the now-familiar surge of power that meant Justice was taking control. Still dazed, he saw someone stepping forward. He felt cold metal around his neck.

Justice's power rushed away, leaving Anders gasping. He couldn't understand it. It was as if the Spirit was gone entirely, leaving behind a hollowed-out husk.

"Good work. Make sure he's subdued, and bring those manacles."

Someone kicked him viciously. He fell to his side with a cry, curling up in a fetal position. More blows landed on his back, neck, and head. He heard the ominous rattling of chains as his vision went black.

~—~


	22. Seeker of the Chantry

~—~

Chapter Twenty-Two:

Seeker of the Chantry

In her bed in the palace, Sarai was having a nightmare. Her eyes flickered behind her closed lids, and a soft moan escaped her lips.

_She was hurrying through the halls of Kinloch Hold. She didn't know what she was looking for, but a powerful sense of dread pressed her forward. As she passed the rooms, she looked desperately in each one. Again and again, she saw the corpses of mages, blood splattered on the walls. She began to recognize their faces: Wynne, Petra, the students from the school._

_"No," she sobbed, her breath ragged._

_She raced up the stairs and came to the windowless room where Anders had been imprisoned. She opened the door, fearing what she would find inside. Crumpled on the floor in a pool of blood was a female mage with dark curls hanging over her face._

_"No..." Sarai brushed the hair away, knowing who it was. "Bethany, not you, too.."_

_She staggered back out of the room, tears blurring her vision. She took the stairs two at a time, knowing she had to find Anders. Somehow, she knew he would be in the Harrowing Chamber._

_When she entered the room, she saw him—not dead on the ground, but standing upright. She gave a desperate laugh of relief._

_"Anders—" His back was turned to her, and he didn't seem to hear her. She rushed over to him. "Anders, thank the Maker you're safe."_

_When she touched his arm, he finally turned around, and she could see the sunburst brand on his forehead. He looked at her vacantly, no recognition in his eyes._

Sarai woke with a start, sitting up in bed. A slight breeze cooled her sweat-slicked skin. Behind the heavy curtains, the first light of day was breaking through.

"Anders," she gasped. She turned to the other side of the bed and found it empty, the blankets undisturbed. In itself, that was not so unusual; there were many times she had awoken to find Anders had left their bed, unable to sleep. With the adrenaline from her nightmare still rushing through her veins, it seemed like a bad omen.

She dressed with shaking fingers and hurried into the common area that joined their rooms. She threw open the door to the room Varric and Fenris were sharing. "Varric! Varric, I need you!"

The dwarf rushed out, dressed only from the waist down. "Hawke? What's wrong?"

"Anders is missing, I don't know where he went. Have you seen him?" She found her voice was trembling as well.

"Slow down, Hawke. I've been asleep, I haven't seen anything. What do you mean he's missing?"

"I mean, he's not in our room. We have to find him, Varric!"

"What makes you think something is even wrong? You know Anders like to wander around in the middle of the night."

"I just—" She took a deep breath. "I guess I had a nightmare."

Varric stifled a smile. "I'm sure he's fine. Nothing to worry about."

By then, the other companions had come out of their rooms. "What's the matter?" Merrill asked sleepily.

"Anders is missing," Sarai repeated.

"Anders is not _here_," Varric corrected. "That doesn't mean he's missing. I'm sure he'll be back in time for breakfast."

Just then, Bann Teagan entered the common space. He looked like he had been dragged out of bed, and his face was lined with concern.

"Champion, you're needed in the throne room immediately."

Sarai felt a cold hand grip her heart. "I have to find Anders first."

Teagan shook his head. "There's no time for that."

"Hawke, she is the Queen of Ferelden," Aveline reminded her. "It would not be wise to ignore her summons."

"Kitten, Varric's right. Anders is out taking a walk. He'll catch up with us." Isabela put an encouraging arm around her friend's shoulders.

Sarai swallowed and nodded. She followed Teagan, her companions falling in behind her.

~—~

The Grey Wardens were waiting just outside the throne room. Bann Teagan frowned at them. "This has nothing to do with the Wardens. How did you even know to be here?"

Zevran smirked.

Rhiannon ignored Teagan, opening the door and gesturing for Sarai to enter. The Wardens followed.

Queen Anora was once again seated on the dais. She looked tired and irritated. On her left stood a contingent of soldiers, dressed in maroon and black armor. Each one had the image of an eye surrounded by a sunburst on their chests. Sarai shivered involuntarily.

"Ah, shit," Varric muttered.

Sarai glanced back at him. "You'd better not have bad news, Varric," she told him softly.

"You remember that woman I told you about? The Seeker?"

"Sarai Hawke." The voice of the leader of the soldiers rang out across the throne room.

She whipped her head back around. "What do you want?"

The woman gave a thin smile. "Do you not want to make our introductions first?" When Sarai did not respond, she continued, "I am Cassandra Pentaghast, Seeker of the Chantry."

"I know," Sarai said bluntly. "The same one who's been threatening my companions. Tell me what you want."

"I see you are one to go straight to the point. I should have expected as much." The Seeker paused. "Very well. I have come to make a bargain with you."

"Get in line."

Cassandra smirked. "I should have expected your sharp tongue, as well. I believe I have something that will encourage you to be serious." She nodded at her subordinates. Two of them left the room.

They returned dragging an unconscious figure between them, their hands under his arms. Sarai's blood ran cold. _This is another nightmare_, she thought frantically. _Oh, Andraste, let me wake up_. She would have recognized that robe anywhere. The soldiers dumped Anders at Cassandra's feet. He had been beaten almost beyond recognition. His arms were chained behind his back and connected to manacles around his ankles.

If Sarai Hawke had possessed a Fade Spirit within her body at that moment, she would have unleashed it to wash through the throne room in a wave of violence. As it was, she had only her blades.

"Anders!" she cried as she drew her weapons, surging forward. Fenris anticipated her and held her back.

"Keep your head," he hissed as Isabela grabbed her other arm.

"Are you ready to listen now, Champion?"

"You _harpy_," Sarai snarled.

At the same time, Queen Anora stood, shocked. "What have you done? This man was under my protection! I cannot allow—"

"Shut up." It was the red-bearded dwarf, Oghren, that had spoken.

"Pardon me?" Anora said, taken aback.

"I said, shut yer trap. Nobody cares what you have to say."

"How _dare_ you speak to me with such disrespect!"

"Enough," the Hero interrupted. Before the Queen could say anything else, Rhiannon continued, "This is not your situation to control, Anora. Be quiet." She gave Sarai a nod.

Trembling with rage, Sarai turned back to Cassandra and snapped, "Release him. Right now."

"We have not discussed the terms of my offer."

"Here's _my_ offer: Give him back to me, or I will separate your head from your body."

"Can I ask a question?" Isabela said, one hand still gripping Sarai's arm. "How come he hasn't gone all blue and killed the lot of you already?"

Cassandra smiled appreciatively. "Marvelous, isn't it? Once we realized what we were dealing with, the Templars in Val Royeaux who are still loyal to the Chantry began to work on a solution. It has worked perfectly." She nudged Anders' unconscious form with a booted toe.

Sarai saw, under the blood-matted hair, a metal collar around his neck. It was covered in enchantments and strange symbols.

"The collar prevents the Spirit within from acting. With it on, he is nothing more than an ordinary mage. And we are more than equipped to deal with a mage, as you can see."

"You have no right to do this to him!" Sarai said furiously.

"Have I not? This man destroyed the Kirkwall Chantry. He killed hundreds of innocents, including the Grand Cleric. He must be brought to justice for his crimes."

Sarai looked at his bloody, swollen face. Her heart pounded painfully against her ribs. "Justice? You're talking about murder!"

"We are talking about a war. This must be done, to restore peace with the Templars."

"_Void_ take the Templars!" Sarai shouted.

"Here is my bargain, Champion: Anders, in exchange for peace and the safety of the rest of the mages in Thedas."

Sarai reeled. "You can't be serious."

"I am entirely serious," the Seeker answered. "If we do not end this war, the Templars who have broken free will not rest until they have hunted down and killed every mage. Surely you are not so selfish that you would choose your lover over the good of many."

"Hawke," Varric said gently. "Think about this. Think about Sunshine—and the rest of the mages back at the school. You said protecting them was the first priority."

"I had to take the life of the man I loved," Aveline reminded her. "I know how hard this is. But you must consider the greater good."

She squeezed her eyes shut against what she was hearing.

Isabela rubbed her shoulder kindly. "You know I'm always in favor of being selfish."

Merrill piped up, saying quietly, "Anders would never let this happen to another mage."

Sarai opened her eyes. Her mind jumped back to that horrible night in Kirkwall, when Merrill had advocated for Anders' life. _How is it that Merrill, of all people, knows exactly what to say?_

She shrugged off her companions and stepped forward slowly, moving with the precision of a predator, her blades hanging ready at waist height.

"The answer is no."

Cassandra scoffed. "Are you serious? The Champion of Kirkwall is choosing her own pleasures over peace in Thedas?"

"You're full of bronto shit," Sarai shot back. "You say that you only need Anders, that only _he_ has to die for there to be peace. That's a lie, and we both know it."

The Seeker narrowed her eyes suspiciously. Sarai closed the distance between them until they were standing toe-to-toe, continuing, "It will never end. As soon as another mage does something you don't approve of, you'll drag that mage off to 'face justice.' And another, and another. Until mages band together and refuse to allow any more sacrifices, any more discipline, any more oppression, there can never be peace for them. Whatever happens to Anders, happens to all mages. And I will not let you take him."

The Seeker's face twisted in a sneer. "You bitch," she hissed. Then, unexpectedly, she began to laugh. "You think you can oppose me? You think you can protect him from me? I will destroy you both!"

There was something in Cassandra's eyes, something manic and out of control. Sarai recognized it: it was the same look she had seen in Bartrand's eyes just before he had betrayed them in the Deep Roads. The same look in Meredith's eyes after the Chantry was destroyed—and in Sebastian's eyes when he had tortured her.

"Oh, Maker," she breathed. She backed up towards her companions. "Get the Queen out of here," she said.

"What?" Bann Teagan was looking at her in confusion. "Why?"

Sarai ignored him, turning instead to the Grey Wardens. "Get Anora out of here, _now_!"

~—~


	23. Rescue

~—~

Chapter Twenty-Three:

Rescue

The Wardens sprang into action immediately. Rhiannon grabbed Anora by the arm and, ignoring her protests, started pulling her towards the door. Alistair and Oghren covered their exit, while the royal guards and Bann Teagan trailed after them in confusion.

"What's going on, Hawke?" Varric asked.

"She's crazy. _Bartrand_ crazy." Sarai continued to back up slowly, trying to edge around towards Anders.

Varric started. "You mean—the lyrium idol? How?"

Cassandra laughed again. "Yes, how indeed? Allow me to tell you how I acquired this power, before it is the end of you all." She noticed Sarai's movements and held out her sword. "Stay where you are, or my men will slit your lover's throat."

Sarai froze.

"Your dwarf friend was invaluable to my search," Cassandra continued. "I was particularly interested in his colorful story about his brother, and the lyrium idol you discovered in the Deep Roads." As she spoke, the other Seekers spread out and began advancing on the companions. "The demise of Knight-Commander Meredith was very unusual as well. If the story was true, then she had been undone by the same idol."

"Of _course_ it was true," Varric muttered. "I don't make things up." Sarai gave him a furious look that said, _This is not the time._

"Did you know, Champion, that Prince Sebastian returned to Kirkwall after the fighting was over? And that he went to the Gallows Courtyard, the site of your battle with Meredith?"

"The idol was destroyed," Sarai protested. "I saw it myself."

"So it may have appeared. My own investigation led me to a quite different conclusion: the lyrium idol burned up Meredith's sword—but the lyrium itself became fused with her body. Sebastian listened to the voice of the idol, and took it with him from Kirkwall."

"And what about you?"

"Vael tracked you, and I tracked Vael. But he was a fool, overeager—and he did not realize what power the idol offered. I bided my time. And now, my time has come." Cassandra leveled her sword at Sarai. "You should have accepted my offer when you had the chance, Sarai Hawke. You could have saved your own life and the lives of your companions. After I've finished with you, I will go to your school and teach those maleficar to fear the Maker."

"You'll do no such thing," Sarai snarled, and the battle was joined.

Sarai made straight for Anders, but Cassandra put herself directly between them. The Seeker's sword swung down towards Sarai's shoulder. She rolled neatly to avoid the blow, coming up on one side of the other woman, striking out quickly with one weapon. Cassandra twisted out of reach. The two fighters continued to circle one another, blocking and parrying, neither one able to land a hit.

All around them, the Seekers were fighting Sarai's companions. She saw one Seeker entangled in vines Merrill had summoned; Isabela stabbed him in the back while he struggled to free himself. Some distance away, Varric was loosing bolts into a group of Seekers. Fenris cut down a warrior that came too close to the dwarf. Aveline and Donnic were fighting side-by-side, working as a team. Zevran had disappeared, but Seekers kept dropping with no one else around them, poison-tipped daggers in their necks.

Cassandra moved with impossible speed. She struck out at Sarai forcefully as the rogue danced around her. Sarai gasped as she felt the sword cut through her leather armor and bite into her side. With a wicked smile, Cassandra leapt back, raising both hands above her head. A red glow surrounded her.

"Not _this_ again!" Isabela wailed from somewhere in the fray.

The stones that made up the throne room began to shift and grind against each other. Slowly, they tore free from the walls and the floor and began to fly around the room. The companions scrambled to stay out of their way. Sarai saw Merrill break one stone into a thousand fragments with a spell.

Sarai took advantage of Cassandra's temporary distraction to rush to Anders' side. There was no time to check his condition, but she stationed herself resolutely over him. She tried to ignore the blood that was running down her leg and seeping into her boot. Meanwhile, the stones began to come together in a deadly whirlwind. Fenris shattered another stone with a roar; the pieces just joined the maelstrom.

Cassandra turned to look for Sarai. When their eyes met, the Seeker smiled triumphantly and pointed both hands towards Sarai and Anders. The whirlwind of rock started to move gradually towards them. Sarai ducked, trying to avoid the stones flying through the air. She couldn't fall back and leave Anders unprotected.

Zevran materialized beside her. "It would be prudent to move, Hawke."

"I can't," she said as she knocked a stone fragment out of the air. "Not without Anders."

Then Isabela appeared on her other side. "Let's _go_, already."

The three rogues managed to drag Anders away from the center of the room and towards one of the doors. Then Zevran and Isabela were gone again, disappearing from view. Cassandra shrieked in rage and charged towards Sarai and Anders. Sarai raced forward, meeting her halfway. She leapt into the air, over Cassandra's sword swing, and brought both blades down. The Seeker blocked them with her gauntlet but staggered backward.

Trying to press her advantage, Sarai attacked with a flurry of strikes. She didn't see the piece of stone coming until it was too late to move. It caught her full on and threw her across the room. She lay there for a moment, dazed, and saw Cassandra advancing towards Anders, sword raised.

The doors behind him opened to reveal the Grey Wardens. Rhiannon moved smoothly to counter Cassandra's attack. She gave an order to Alistair—Sarai couldn't hear it over the sounds of battle and the ringing in her own ears—and he pulled Anders out of the room.

Sarai pushed herself to her feet and charged back into battle. The Seekers' numbers were fading. Cassandra was the real threat. Her attention was focused on Rhiannon, who was matching the Seeker blow for blow.

This was no time for chivalry. Sarai threw herself onto Cassandra's back, taking full advantage of her distraction. She grabbed the other woman's hair in one hand, yanking her head back.

"You will never hurt another mage," she swore, and cut her throat.

~—~

The moment Cassandra was killed, the stones fell to the ground. After that, the battle was over in a matter of minutes. Scanning the room, Sarai saw the party was in fairly good condition, far better than they had been after fighting Meredith. _Perhaps the idol is losing its power_, she thought briefly.

But the lyrium idol was far less important to her than Anders. She limped into the hallway as quickly as she could, finding Alistair, Oghren, and Rhiannon standing over him. The bile rose in Sarai's throat as she finally took in the extent of his injuries. She knelt beside him, gently pulling open his robe. Every inch of his body was covered in bruises and cuts. One of his ribs was poking out through the skin, and both of his arms were broken. His face was a mess of blood and broken bone.

"Never seen sparkle-fingers looking so bad," Oghren muttered. Rhiannon nodded but said nothing.

"Oh, Anders..." Sarai whispered, brushing her fingers lightly over his skin.

Anger flared within her, momentarily overtaking the fear and dread. She turned her attention to the chains, quickly releasing the locks and throwing them away. Then she looked at the collar, pulling his hair back to see it more clearly. It was cold to the touch, shockingly so. There did not appear to be any locking mechanism or even a joint along it, no way she could see to remove it.

"Maker's breath." The voice was Anora's. "What happened here?"

Sarai turned around. The Queen was looking at the throne room, now a pile of rocks and debris. Then she came over to look at Anders and gasped. "We have healers here, in the palace staff. I will send for them immediately." A messenger was dispatched, and Anora said, "I owe you my life. How did you know this would happen?"

"The Seeker's mind was... poisoned. By an ancient dwarven artifact. The same thing happened to Meredith—I could tell from the look in her eyes." Sarai turned back to Anders.

"So it's true that Meredith was mad," Anora said. "I... I shudder to think what might have happened."

The healer, an old elven mage, arrived, and Sarai moved slightly out of the way. He looked Anders over, his face lined with concern. "This will take more than one healer," he said seriously. "Send for the others." Then he stretched his hands out, a pale green light emanating from them. He shook his head. "I will repair the most serious damage here, so that we can move him to the infirmary."

"Is he—" Sarai choked. "Tell me he's going to live."

"I will do my best," the mage promised. "That's the most I can say."

~—~

It took all six of the palace's healers three full days to repair Anders' broken body. Sarai had to describe his face to them so they could put it back together. Throughout the process, she didn't leave his side. Her companions, as well as the Grey Wardens, took turns keeping her company by his sickbed.

They had not been able to remove the collar. No one could figure out how it was made or how to deactivate it. It seemed impervious to weapons and magic. And Anders had not awoken. Sarai grew increasingly anxious with each passing day, even as Anders' physical condition improved dramatically.

In the afternoon on the third day, the whole group—the three Wardens, Sarai, Anders, and all her friends—gathered in the infirmary together. The elven healer was there to report on Anders' progress.

"We have done everything we can for him. The broken bones are knit, the cuts are sealed and the bruises are gone. But we cannot remove that collar, and we cannot discern why he remains unconscious. I'm afraid we have no other assistance to offer."

"Thank you," Sarai said softly. "I am grateful for what you've done."

The healer gave a short bow and left. Sarai ran a hand through her hair for the hundredth time.

"Hawke, stop that. You're going to make yourself go bald," Varric said, grabbing her wrist and pulling her hand away.

"We'll find a way to wake him up, kitten," said Isabela. "I'm sure of it."

Sarai continued to stare at Anders' still face. There was nothing to say.

"Pardon me, messeres, but there are visitors for you," a servant said, ushering two dwarves into the room.

"Enchantment!"

Sarai and Rhiannon looked up with mirrored expressions of confusion. "Sandal?" the two women said in unison.

"Messere Hawke! And, oh my, Messere Aeducan is here as well. What a surprise!" Bodahn Feddic stepped further into the room.

"Bodahn?" Varric pinched the bridge of his nose in confusion. "You know the Hero of Ferelden?"

"I certainly do, ser, and may I say it's a pleasure to see you again as well."

"What on earth are you doing here?" Alistair asked. "And how do you know all of _them_?"

"He lived in my house," Sarai said, torn between amusement and astonishment. "As did Sandal."

"That's true. As for what we're doing here, well, my boy Sandal just _insisted_ that we come back to Ferelden. Said he wanted to see the palace. And when we arrived, what did we learn but that the Champion was in town. So we thought we'd stop by and say hello."

"Enchantment!" Sandal agreed cheerfully. Then he saw Anders. His face grew concerned. He pointed to the mage and asked, "Enchantment?"

"He's... sick," Sarai explained.

"Enchantment!" Sandal reached out and touched the collar. With a click, it broke into two pieces and fell free.

Sarai leapt to her feet. "How did you do that?"

"Enchantment!" he replied, clapping his hands.

Varric chuckled. "Set yourself up for that one, Hawke."

Sarai grabbed the pieces of collar and tossed them to the ground. Then she leaned over Anders, shaking his shoulders gently. "Anders? Can you hear me? Please wake up... please, love..."

There was a flash of blue light, and Anders gasped. His skin began to glow with blue fire, and his eyes were brimming with blue when he opened them.

"Sarai," the deep voice of Justice said. She felt it thrumming in her bones, and it brought tears to her eyes.

"Thank the Maker, you're all right."

"No," Justice said. Sarai tensed. "Anders is... lost. He cannot find his way back to our physical form. If you wish to find him, I believe you must enter the Fade."

"How?" Sarai asked.

"I do not know."

"Hawke," Merrill said, fixing her with wide green eyes. "Do we have any lyrium?"

"The Wardens do," Alistair offered. "Plenty of it."

"Then I can send you into the Fade. I learned the ritual from Marethari when we were helping Feynriel."

Sarai nodded. "Do it."

~—~

They prepared the ritual quickly; Sarai did not want to waste any time. When they were ready, she laid herself out on the bed next to Anders. Justice let the body fall limp as he subsided. Sarai closed her eyes and felt Merrill's magic wash over her.

She opened her eyes and found herself in the Circle Tower. The scene filled her with a sense of foreboding. She walked softly down the halls, looking cautiously into the rooms. All of them were neat and clean and empty. No dead mages, she saw with relief.

She continued up to the higher levels, somehow knowing that's where Anders would be. Sure enough, when she reached the isolation cell, the glowing figure of Justice was waiting for her.

"Anders is inside," Justice told her, pointing at the closed door.

"I don't understand. How can he be in there and you out here?"

"It is difficult to explain. What is in that room is part of Anders, the part that could not be fully merged with me. It is... incompatible with Justice. I cannot enter that space."

"So I just have to go in and bring him out? Then he'll be able to wake up?"

"That is my belief, yes."

"That doesn't sound so bad," she said. Taking a deep breath, she reached out for the door handle. Instead of the door swinging inward, as she had expected, there was a flash of light.

When her vision cleared, she found herself inside the cell, the door still closed. Although it had no windows, the whole room was lit by the eerie glow of the Fade. Cowering in the corner, she saw Anders. His face was hollow, his eyes open wide in terror. He looked young, barely out of adolescence.

"What are you doing here?" he gasped. "You shouldn't be here!"

"It's all right, Anders. I came here to find you."

"No," he said, panicked, trying to push himself further into the corner. "If they find you in here, they'll punish me! Go away!"

She carefully came closer, reaching out to take his hand. He jerked away, and she heard chains rattle. _Why didn't I notice those before?_ "No one's going to punish you. You're safe now."

"No," he whispered. "No, no, no, no... Get away from me, go away..."

"Anders," she put a hand on his cheek, looking straight into those terrified eyes. "You know I will always protect you."

"Shhh! They'll hear you," His voice was thick with fear. "Just leave me alone."

Sarai saw more chains twisting their way around Anders. He was slowly being encased in them. She grabbed at the chains, pulling them away, but more swarmed up around him. "Anders! Nothing is keeping you here. Come with me, we'll go home."

"Home?" he whispered.

"You aren't a prisoner any more, my love. You're free to go."

"I can't..."

"Let me help you," she said, offering him her hand. Hesitantly, he took it, and she pulled him to his feet. The chains dissolved. With her other hand, Sarai reached for the door.

Another flash of light, and they were in the hallway. For an instant, Sarai saw two Anders in front of her: the mature Anders, glowing with Justice's light, and the young Anders, fear turning to hope in his eyes. Then her vision cleared, and one man, the man she loved, stood before her.

"Thank you," he said lovingly.

~—~

[**Author's Note**: That's it, except for an epilogue! I hope you enjoyed the story. Sorry if the part with Sandal seemed contrived - I figure, if the game writers can use him as a deus ex machina, why can't I?]


	24. Epilogue

~—~

Epilogue

Shouts and screams rang through the courtyard of the school, but Sarai did not move from her post by the gate. Instead, she glanced over her shoulder and smiled at the sight of her Mabari playing with a group of mage children. He was eagerly licking their faces, to their delight and dismay.

She turned back to the task at hand: overseeing the new arrivals. The school had been growing by leaps and bounds over the months since Ferelden had officially endorsed it. Voldrik had expanded it dramatically over the summer, quadrupling the number of students they could support. Now mages were coming from all corners of Thedas to enroll in or visit the school.

The latest batch was a group of children whose parents could not afford to make the journey to the school themselves. Desperate letters had been sent, and Bethany had agreed to undertake the trip to collect the prospective students. Now she was trying to make the young mages stand still long enough to be enrolled.

The school's influence was extending beyond the scattered mage population. The villagers of Wheat's End, initially suspicious, had been won over by the surge in people—and coin—passing through. Being the closest settlement to the school, the village was rapidly becoming a town, catering to the visiting mages and their families.

Bann Teagan visited regularly. Anora herself had come to see the school when the expansion was completed. In the meantime, the Queen was wrestling with the Ferelden nobles who had opposed her idea. Sarai was grateful that politics stayed in Denerim and she could stay at the school.

She heard Anders coming, but pretended not to, a little smile curling up the corners of her mouth. _Does he really think he can be stealthy with those huge boots?_ Then strong arms enveloped her and stubble ticked her neck.

"Hello, my beautiful wife." He kissed her neck, making her lean into him appreciatively.

"Hello, my beautiful husband."

"New students?"

"Indeed. Seven more. Two of them already show an aptitude for healing—your class will be full."

"Why can't Wynne teach healing, again?" he said with a frown. "She's the one who taught me, after all."

"Because Wynne is old and deserves to rest," Sarai responded. "And because you get antsy if you're not making yourself useful. You needed a job."

"I thought my job was keeping the school's security... satisfied."

"That's your night job," she said, catching one of his hands and kissing the knuckles.

Anders gave a happy sigh. "We did it. We really did it." He kissed her neck again, this time deeper and with more passion, and she swatted at him playfully. Dissuaded from further affection, he said, "A world where our children can be born mages, and free."

Sarai felt a brush of sadness. "Someone's children, anyway."

"I'm sorry, love..."

"No," she said, finally turning around so she could put her hands on his shoulders. "I made my choices. I never wanted to be a housewife raising children for some Lowtown thief, though Maker knows I might have been. I wanted—I _want_—you. Besides," she added, sweeping a hand over the courtyard, "I have nearly a hundred mage children to look after. _This_ is the family we made. And I love it."

"I love you," he replied.

"Of course. That goes without saying. Now go, you're supposed to be teaching."

Sarai watched as Anders walked back across the courtyard and into the building. She turned back to her sister and the newest students with a smile. She had chosen this life, and she would cherish it.

~—~

The End

[Thanks for all the wonderful feedback! I have already posted the first chapter of my new story, a prequel about Sarai Hawke and Anders called Thin Blue Flame. You can find it through my profile!]


End file.
